


Catharsis

by ToxicPineapple



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (but I digress), (ehhh sort of), (i'd call it more like heated exchanges), 5+1 Things, Angst, Arguments, BACK AT IT AGAIN, Background Momoharu, Background Oumeno, Background Shironaga, Crushes, Crying, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Kinda, M/M, Oblivious Saihara Shuichi, Saihara Shuichi's Abandonment Issues, You guys know the drill, duh - Freeform, i've been wanting to use that tag for ages, implied crushes, injuries, miscommunications, shuichi knows they're close but he doesn't know How Close, touch starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: As Rantaro turns around, Shuichi watches him go-- but for some reason seeing his back makes a lump rise taller in his throat, painful and difficult to swallow around. And it’s… it’s fine, that Rantaro’s leaving, he’s in a truly uncomfortable position right now and Shuichi would go to grab someone else too, he really would, but… leaving just like that, with nothing else said, it… Shuichi clears his throat and forces himself to speak up, ignoring how wobbly his voice comes out through the tears. “Amami-kun,” he calls, and when Rantaro turns around, his expression unreadable, he says, “I’m… sorry. That you had to see this.”The frown that appears on Rantaro’s face is painful, somehow, like a suckerpunch to the gut, but Shuichi doesn’t have time to process it before Rantaro flips around and walks over to him, strides long and almost desperate, not hesitating or even uttering a word before he engulfs Shuichi in a hug.(And it’s so… warm.)---The five times an embrace between Shuichi and Rantaro was cut short. (Plus the one time it wasn't.)
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 46
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

The hallways get particularly congested right after breakfast on Sundays, and right now, Shuichi really isn’t looking forward to throwing himself in the middle of it when the meal is over.

He hadn’t really been aware of it during the first few months of his time at Hope’s Peak, if only because of the fact that he doesn’t usually  _ eat _ breakfast. And in fact this remained consistent throughout summer vacation (it was considered a good day if Shuichi was awake before noon in those weeks and anything he ate at those times couldn’t really be considered breakfast, even if he was feeling generous) but when he returned to school in September, sudden he was best friends with Kaito, and that meant-- well, that meant breakfast, among other things.

It’s not necessarily a bad thing? Like, Shuichi doesn’t get very hungry in the mornings-- which is why he skipped out on the meal to begin with-- but Kirumi makes a  _ fantastic _ toasted bagel, and it’s nice to get some coffee too. But they don’t even have classes on Sundays, and being up that early when there isn’t anything real for him to be doing reads like a tremendous waste of time that could be spent sleeping. Usually Shuichi’s morning routine on days when he doesn’t have plans laid out involves lying in bed until the morning is over, and then crawling out from under the covers to get his homework done. Also, detective work, if he has any lying around, which has been the case nowadays more often than not.

That being said, Shuichi’s always been bad at saying no to people, and Kaito’s presumably always been bad at taking no for an answer, so when Kaito says,  _ Hey, Shuichi, do this,  _ the answer is generally passive acceptance-- if a particularly  _ begrudging  _ brand of passivity, in this case.

The student body at Hope’s Peak has always been pretty loud as a general rule. Something about taking all the best kids in their respective crafts and cramming them into a building together 24/7 is a recipe for cacophony, among other things. Shuichi wouldn’t mind it on most days but again, it’s a Sunday; he hasn’t had his coffee yet and he’s feeling a bit disoriented.  _ Really  _ disoriented, in fact. Braving the crowds in fifteen minutes sounds borderline unbearable, and he figures that Kaito is going to have some escapade planned for later, which… fun, but not today. Shuichi doesn’t even remember what time he fell asleep last night, sometime between three and four in the morning. Usually he’s up browsing memes or whatever, but he’s been stressing out over a murder case recently.

(Shuichi doesn’t usually take murder cases, as they’re not his specialty, but things happen sometimes. This one wasn’t even given to him by his uncle, but by the school. They call it talent improvement. Maki calls it unpaid child labour. Shuichi doesn’t particularly care what it’s called right now, though, only that he stayed up late and still hasn’t gotten the mystery solved. Ugh.)

What he’d really like for right now would be to go back to sleep. Getting a mug of steaming black coffee just doesn’t feel worth the dull throbbing pain in his temples. Unlike Himiko, who is blissfully conked out against Tenko’s shoulder the next table over, Shuichi lacks the willpower required to sleep through the mess. So he’s been drifting for the past ten minutes or so.

Eventually Kaede, who earlier seated herself next to him with a greeting and an orange slice in between her lips like a broad citrus-y smile, seems to notice his predicament. Or maybe she was aware of it the full time and contemplating the best way to go about fixing the problem without embarrassing him. Kaede’s perceptive but she’s also empathetic, which means that she probably  _ would  _ spend five minutes coming up with a way to help someone without making them feel weird about themselves. That isn’t to say that Shuichi’s complaining. Like, even putting aside the fact that her consideration is going to work out in his favour in the long run, Kaede is genuinely one of the most compassionate person he knows, with the only real contender for that title being perhaps Gonta. But then again, nobody can beat Gonta.

“What time did you go to sleep last night?” Kaede asks with another smile-- this one full of teeth and not orange peel. There is a knowing shine in her plum eyes, paired with an amiable quirk of her eyebrows. Shuichi would care more that she’s likely about to make fun of him if he wasn’t so tired. “You look like you’re having an internal monologue.”

Shuichi decides not to ask how she knows what that looks like. “You could hardly call it a monologue,” he sighs, resting his elbow on the table. He doesn’t dare close his eyes, because despite his earlier assertion that he lacks the cojones to fall asleep amidst all the noise from his peers, he really doubts he could stay awake if he let his eyelids shut. And falling asleep on the table has a pretty high chance of knocking over Kaede’s cup of chocolate milk, which, aside from being a terrible combination with orange slices, would also stain her shirt, which, like most of the items in her closet, is pale pink. Chocolate is notoriously difficult to scrub off, and even if Shuichi buys her a new shirt, he’s not sure he’d ever manage to survive the guilt. “A monologue requires some level of coherency, or at least a flare for the dramatic,” Shuichi pauses. “And currently, I lack both of those things.”

“Okay,” Kaede laughs, shaking her head. Shuichi doesn’t mean to be sarcastic, it’s just difficult to muster sincerity when he feels like an extra on the set of  _ The Walking Dead. _ “Go to your dorm and sleep. I’ll tell Momota-kun that you had to skip out on mandatory-sidekick-breakfast duties because you stayed up late working on a case, and not because you were browsing Coronavirus memes, like I know you were.”

“I didn’t come to breakfast on a Sunday for a callout,” Shuichi grumbles, not particularly wanting to tell her about the case he’s still half stressing out on, and gets to his feet, pushing his chair back from the table. He offers Kaede a begrudging smile, too exhausted to be embarrassed by her eyebrow raise. “Thank you, when I fall asleep I’ll dream of you in gratitude.” He pauses. “Uhm, well, no, I won’t, that was a really weird thing to say. I’m very sorry. I think the part of my brain that processes tact is turned off right now.”

“It was a little sweet, but yeah, mostly weird,” Kaede bumps him with her shoulder. “Go to sleep, Saihara-kun. Don’t make me request that Toujo-san confiscate your electronics so you can’t repeat your mistakes.”

Considering that Shuichi has insomnia, that probably wouldn’t make much of a difference, but he offers her an awkward smile nonetheless, (which she returns much less awkwardly), before turning around and slipping out of the dining hall. Since he left before breakfast is over, the hallways are delightfully empty of people, and as he walks further away from the doors, the sound of voices fade into the background, overshadowed by the sounds of his footsteps, and the soles of his shoes squeaking against the tile floor. The lights that criss-cross along the ceilings are yellow tinted and old-looking. The ambiance makes Shuichi think of abandoned warehouses and empty streetcorners. The kind of place you’d go for a final confrontation in a Hollywood movie.

(Well, that being said, Shuichi doesn’t watch a lot of Hollywood movies, just the ones his parents work on… so maybe the kind of place someone would go for a final confrontation in one of Shuichi’s  _ father’s  _ Hollywood movies. Or the movies written by his mother. Hollywood is kind of a one-trick pony, isn’t it? That’s not going to stop Shuichi from staying up all night and rewatching those movies, though. A phone call would be preferable but he’ll take what he can get. Everyone has a guilty pleasure, right?)

Of course, there aren’t going to be a lot of confrontations happening in  _ these  _ halls. The ceiling is low and while the halls are wide enough to fit a steady stream of students, it’s difficult to tell how far you are in or out at any given time. Shuichi usually counts the steps as he moves through, but today the journey seems to last forever, and as he loops around the corner, he feels dazed, almost like he’s sleepwalking. He hasn’t sleepwalked in years, not since his parents took off to America and he got used to sleeping in the guest room (now his bedroom) at his uncle’s house. Maybe the cause for this hazy, disoriented feeling is that he’s dreaming. That would be nice. To wake up from the fatigue to find that he’s still in bed, and actually in the position to say no to Kaito and sleep in. Not that he would, but it’s fun to entertain the thought regardless.

When Shuichi reaches the foyer, he sighs. It’s one of the last sunny days before late autumn arrives and everything gets gloomy, which he’s been looking forward to for a while. It’s pretty though, and the weather is crisp, so he doesn’t mind the sunlight so much. As he approaches the double doors, he squints, blinking quickly to adjust to the sudden lighting difference, and reaches out to push the door open--

\--Only for it to swing open right as his fingers brush the handle, and for Shuichi to stumble forward, walking right into the middle of somebody’s chest. Well, not their chest; Shuichi’s eyes are about level with their nose, but he’s been looking down this whole time, and when their arms go out to steady him, they rest on his sides, warm and sturdy.

They’re very warm. They’re wearing a jacket, too, and a white scarf that smells really strongly of trees, and the smell is comforting. Stupid things to be thinking while bumping into a person, but Shuichi doesn’t feel all that real right now, and the chuckle that resounds from them is low and rich.

It occurs to Shuichi that he should step back, so he does, lifting his gaze and meeting Rantaro’s eyes. Rantaro quirks an eyebrow at him, which, yeah, that’s fair. If Kaede could tell that he was having an internal monologue back in the dining hall, Rantaro can probably tell that he’s pretty much dead on his feet. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try to have some manners, though. Shuichi clears his throat. “Uhm, sorry, Amami-kun, I didn’t realise that you were…”

“Don’t sweat it,” Rantaro smiles. He has nice crinkly and warm smiles. They make his eyes into little crescent moons, squinty and green. “It happens to me all the time. You alright?” he adds, probably in reference to Shuichi’s general… out-of-it, ness.

“Yes, I’m,” he clears his throat again, searching for some semblance of coherency. With Kaede it’s fine, because she’s seen him in the throes of sleep deprivation countless times, but it’s a bit more embarrassing as far as Rantaro is concerned. Not that Rantaro does things effortlessly, per se, but he’s tactful. Shuichi is not tactful. Especially when he’s exhausted. “I’m fine, just, tired.”

“What time did you get to bed last night?” Rantaro asks, tilting his head to the side. Shuichi has to consider the question despite the fact that he knows full well that he has no idea. When he shrugs, Rantaro’s lips quirk in a frown. He frowns prettily, too, though the expression isn’t exactly validating to receive. Shuichi feels a little guilty, even though he knows logically that the only person he’s hindering by neglecting his sleep is himself. “Hm. Want me to walk you back to the dorms?”

“Ah? No, I’m alright,” Shuichi denies without thinking about it, though now that he’s stopping to consider, the offer is appealing-- if only because Rantaro’s a sight for sore eyes and he has warm hands and he’s really liberal with casual, gentle touches. Even if he usually means them in the strictest of platonic ways. It’s not like Shuichi has to have a crush on him to indulge himself a little bit. It’s fine. “But, uhm, thank you for offering,” he adds, feeling like he should.

Rantaro appears unconvinced, but he nods anyway, perhaps deciding that he should just let it rest. He reaches out and ruffles Shuichi’s hair, a gesture that would normally annoy him (because he’s not a  _ child)  _ but for some reason feels very nice in this moment. When he doesn’t move to bat Rantaro’s hand away, Rantaro’s lip quirks up. “You  _ are  _ tired,” he remarks.

“I wasn’t lying about it,” Shuichi huffs, closing one of his eyes, as Rantaro hasn’t moved his hand away yet and the warmth is just the slightest bit distracting. “I’m still not a kid, y’know,” he adds, because he feels obligated. The shine in Rantaro’s eye is difficult to decipher-- maybe Shuichi would be able to read it if he was awake, but he’s pretty much not.

And then Rantaro shifts forward, tucking an arm around his shoulders in a brief, loose hug, muttering, “That’s not why I do it, Saihara-kun,” before releasing the embrace. “Get some sleep, you look exhausted,” he tosses over his shoulder, walking away with his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t just absolutely slaughter Shuichi on the spot.

It takes a minute for Shuichi’s brain to start working again. When he registers what just happened he’s halfway across the courtyard, and it occurs to him that he sort of wishes that hug had lasted just a little bit longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Nobody actually gets injured in this one, but Shuichi's uncle is mentioned as being hospitalised. If the mentions of hospitals and injured loved ones are triggering for you, please be cautious. Love you <3

Shuichi’s really starting to regret leaving his phone behind in his room. It’s just that he knew that he’d be on it every few seconds if he brought it to class, and there’d be no point in checking it non-stop because Aunt Mei  _ said  _ that she’d text him again with more information after his classes are over. He doesn’t want to freak anybody out by being on edge all day, and everyone he spends time around is perceptive enough to notice the potential twitches for his pocket. All of this still stands-- and logically Shuichi’s sure that there haven’t been any new developments-- but he lacks the ability, in this moment, to think about anything else.

He shouldn’t even be in class today. He got maybe four hours of sleep last night, woken up at six in the morning by a phone call from his aunt. She didn’t even greet him; as soon as he dragged himself out from under the covers and swiped the answer icon, (a bit too groggy to be anxious but registering somewhere beneath a haze of exhaustion that Aunt Mei wouldn’t call so early for no reason), she stated,  _ “Your uncle is in the hospital.” _

It gave Shuichi heavy pause, meaning that he sat there for a solid thirty seconds, holding his breath and blinking, trying to wake himself up enough to process her words. Finally he managed, his voice still thick with sleep, “What?”

_ “Akifumi is hospitalised,”  _ Mei repeated, tone softened by understanding. She sounded worried and exhausted, the way she got whenever it was late and Uncle Akifumi wasn’t home yet from whatever case he was working on.  _ “He got hurt on a case last night. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know right away, but it was late and I thought you might be sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you up.”  _ The,  _ I know you have a hard enough time sleeping to begin with,  _ was implied, but Shuichi still felt his stomach coiling with the knowledge that his uncle was hospitalised all night, and he spent the majority of it scrolling through memes on Tumblr.

“Is--” he broke off, trying to articulate his question in a way that didn’t sound so pathetically concerned. “Is he okay? How-- What even happened?”

_ “I wasn’t really sure… I haven’t been able to ask him yet. But he’s okay, Shuichi. He’ll be fine.”  _ Mei didn’t sound entirely convinced. Shuichi would’ve believed her more if her voice wasn’t so tight, so flat, as though she was more trying to tell herself that.  _ “I’ll be waiting with him today for any updates. I just wanted you to know.” _

“Can I come? To the hospital, I mean, and wait with you? Are you alone?” Shuichi pushed his blankets down to the foot of the bed and got unsteadily to his feet, feeling around his nightstand for the switch on his lamp. “Sensei won’t mind if I miss classes once, I’ve never missed before, and--”

_ “No, no, Shuichi, go to class,”  _ Mei cut him off, a breathy laugh escaping her.  _ “Akifumi wouldn’t want you to miss it. Try not to worry, okay? I’ll text you this afternoon with an update.” _

...and he’s been in class for an hour now, looking at the clock every few moments, trying to keep from counting the seconds in his head until lunch comes and he can at least slip out to his dorm. It won’t do him any good, scrolling through old chat logs with his aunt (and later his uncle) and waiting around for text messages that aren’t going to arrive, but at least it’ll be a way to distract himself. The teacher has been talking all morning, of course, and they’re all supposed to be doing work, but Shuichi just can’t focus on any of it. Every time he looks down at his textbook his head swims and aches and the words seem to flutter off the pages.

Next to him, Kaede is drumming her fingers on the desk. He doesn’t recognise the song that she’s tapping out, but it’s nice to know that he’s not the only person who’s… distracted, he supposes. Kaede is always distracted in class, though, never able to pick up any information that isn’t related in some way to the piano-- interpersonal things she’s fine with, but in an academic setting she’s actually pretty exhausting to deal with. They do homework together sometimes and Shuichi’s always startled to see the extent that music notes and doodles take over her worksheets. (She’s great for group projects though, good on her.)

People are always so dreary in the winter. The holiday break passed and it’s been several weeks since then, and now they’re just biding their time until March comes and the school year ends. Not that it’ll matter; they still have two years left together at Hope’s Peak. Shuichi wonders what he’ll be doing over spring break. Spending time and working with his uncle, he supposes. If his uncle is still alive by the end of today.

“Ah,” Shuichi mutters, accidentally snapping his pencil underneath his desk. Damn it. He’d kind of managed to distract himself. Uncle Akifumi went to the hospital once several years ago, for a minor operation. Shuichi remembers how tall everyone was there in their green clothes and white jackets, how all of them had faces but none of them had eyes. The women behind the desk had white strands in her black hair and she gave him a lollypop that he didn’t eat. Akifumi isn’t a small person by any means but he seemed so… it’s hard to find the word now that the memories are all blurry, but Shuichi supposes the right one would be  _ prone.  _ The blankets seemed to engulf him.

(It’s so… terrifying, how fragile life is… things could be over at any second. Aunt Mei said Akifumi will be fine, but how does Shuichi know that? How does  _ she  _ even know that? What even happened to him?)

“Huuuh,” Kokichi, who sits in the desk behind Shuichi’s, pushes himself up onto it, leaning over Shuichi’s shoulder to peer under his desk. The teacher dismissed them for solo work-time now, and a soft buzz of chatter has already begun to fill the room, so Shuichi can’t really be surprised by Kokichi’s sudden attention-- though he wishes that he could be left alone, really. “Saihara-chan is strong! You broke that pencil with your bare hands!”

“It’s, uhm, not that difficult,” Shuichi mumbles, following Kokichi’s gaze and looking at his hands too. The sharp edges of the broken parts have created a cut on his left hand and though it doesn’t really hurt, there’s a thin line of blood trickling down from the spot. Shuichi presses his lips together.

“Mmm, out of it, too,” Kokichi notices. “You didn’t see everyone looking at you when the pencil snapped! It was super loud, y’know!”

“Really?” Shuichi glances back at him momentarily. Usually he’d be able to use clues about Kokichi’s behaviour to figure out if this is a lie or not-- it’s what they do, after all, the whole truth-and-lies shtick. Sort of the basis of their friendship-- but at the moment he feels drained and edgy, and his eyes are  _ kind  _ of stinging but not enough to warrant any real concern. Kokichi’s expression is splendidly unreadable. “I’m-- sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt the class, I broke it on acci--”

“Yeesh, Saihara-chan,” Kokichi frowns playfully, lightly whapping his shoulder with a hand. “That was a lie. You’re off your game today.” He follows up the remark with a very slight furrow of his brow, though his expression smoothes out all the creases a moment later, blank and placid as ever. “Did something happen?”

It wouldn’t help much if he told Kokichi about his uncle, but he sort of wants to. Not Kokichi specifically, just-- someone, probably. The only thing is that his voice is getting kind of caught in his throat, and his palms feel kind of sweaty-- and he  _ knows  _ Kokichi is noticing, partly because Kokichi’s observant like that but also just because Shuichi’s always been so bad at masking how he’s feeling, he’s surprised Kaede didn’t read distress in his expression the moment they saw each other this morning. His chest feels really tight and hot and he doesn’t think he’s going to cry but the chances of actual words coming out of his mouth are slim to none.

Kokichi opens his mouth, maybe to bail him out or something, but then there’s a loud crash behind him, and as he flips around Shuichi lifts his gaze to see what the commotion is; just Kaito and Tenko, fighting as usual (it’s more like Tenko threw Kaito into a desk, and now they’re throwing hands right there on the dusty classroom floor) and this is typical of them, but the explosion of noise that comes from it is-- sudden. It’s sudden, and overwhelming. Kokichi spares him a look but is already slipping from his seat, whether to provoke or restrain, Shuichi doesn’t care to analyse. Maybe Kokichi  _ is  _ going to tell them to knock it off, that Shuichi can’t deal with the ruckus today, but--

His legs feel numb as he pushes himself up onto them, picking his way past his and Kaede’s desks and to the door. The doorknob is cool and slick underneath his palm, and his sweaty fingers scrabble for purchase, but he manages to push the door open with his shoulder and stumbles out into the hallway, the rush of cool air that greets him feeling equal parts a relief and a disappointment. The knot in his chest is much too tight for him to even entertain the thought of returning, but he still feels awful for stepping out. Aunt Mei told him to go to class. And he should be in there, since he can’t be at the hospital.

Shuichi has a short list of places he goes to hide while he cries. Go-to hiding spots. His feet move automatically, carrying him down the hall and around the corner, seeking out the old janitor’s closet he found once back in September, right after summer vacation when he and Kaito got into a fight and Kaito refused to talk to him for several days. (He cried a lot that week, so as a result he got very familiar with the dusty old janitor’s closet. Nobody really noticed, though, except for Kaede, but Kaede’s good at noticing. Shuichi half wishes she was with him now.)

He barely reaches the door, fingers outstretching to curl around the door handle, when a voice calls out behind him, “Saihara-kun?” and it’s not Kaede, but it’s not exactly an  _ unwelcome  _ voice either, just sort of… an embarrassing one, maybe. Because tears are already stinging at his eyes and Rantaro’s never seen him crying before, not even once, and Shuichi desperately wants to keep it that way.

Still, it’s-- rude, not to turn around. When he does, his gaze is cast upon the ground, but he lifts it after a moment, hesitantly meeting the concern in Rantaro’s green eyes.

“You okay?” Rantaro asks after a moment of quiet, probably having been expecting Shuichi to say something upon seeing him. And-- Shuichi feels  _ guilty,  _ for not doing so, for putting Rantaro in an awkward position with his silence, but he feels like if he opens his mouth a greeting is  _ not  _ what’s going to come out of it. “It really is annoying how much Momota-kun and Chabashira-san are always beating up on each other, huh? I mean, I’m all for a friendly throw-down,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “But it’s a bit excessive by now. I think they need to just work out their differences but it’s hard when neither of them will listen. Still, you’re close to Momota-kun, aren’t you? So it can’t be easy--”

“I’m-- that’s not--” Shuichi cuts himself off, feeling bad for interrupting Rantaro’s rambling. (Although Rantaro doesn’t seem to mind at all. The frown that appears on his face is concerned, not offended or abashed. That doesn’t do much to alleviate Shuichi’s guilt, however.) “It’s-- It was just loud, that’s all,” he mutters, looking down. “What Momota-kun and Chabashira-san do isn’t really any of my business. And I’m used to it, anyway, it was just-- today, I--” he lets out a mirthless little laugh of his own and pretends not to see the contortion of Rantaro’s brow. “I’m sorry,” he pulls his sleeves down over his hands to wipe away the moisture from the corners of his eyes. “You didn’t ask, I’m--”

“I  _ did  _ ask,” Rantaro replies quickly, clasping and unclasping his hands together in front of himself. “Did something happen?”

Shuichi opens and closes his mouth. He and Rantaro aren’t  _ close,  _ and that’s not necessarily a factor that would keep him from talking about what happened-- because he thinks it’s a personally reasonable thing to be stressed about-- but he doesn’t know if it’s… okay, for him to unload any of that on Rantaro. Because Rantaro would never reciprocate, that’s the thing; Shuichi doesn’t know  _ anything  _ about him beyond his talent and that he has nice, mellow smiles that he gives whenever someone plays a prank on him. Also, he smells good, and he has warm hands, but those are irrelevant, really; surface level fun facts that would be pertinent in a childish infatuation, not in whether or not Shuichi should choose to burden him with his problems.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Rantaro says, more quietly. “I understand that we don’t really… well, Ouma-kun calls it having level ten friendship, but I think it’s more just a matter of having boundaries laid out, and all that. Still, I get it if you don’t trust me. I can grab someone for you, though-- maybe Momota-kun isn’t an option right now, but I’m sure that Akamatsu-san would be more than willing to--”

“My uncle is in the hospital,” Shuichi blurts, cutting Rantaro off once again and immediately wondering why he even says it. It gets a look of genuine surprise from the other boy, which is so rare and borderline unprecedented that Shuichi would smile under different circumstances, but his sleeves are becoming unreasonably wet with all the tears he’s had to soak up and it’s not really working to stop him from crying anymore. He keeps his hands pressed up against his eyes anyway, because it hides the inevitable redness of his face from view. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Rantaro. “He-- got injured on a case, I don’t really know the details and my aunt told me to go to class so I haven’t seen him, and I don’t know if he’s okay-- she said he is, this morning when she called, but that was almost five hours ago and something could’ve happened and my phone isn’t with me so I wouldn’t know, and I--”

“Do-- Do you want to go get your phone? Have it with you?” Rantaro cuts him off, sounding a bit strained, and Shuichi thinks vaguely that it was probably to keep him from hyperventilating, but he’s thinking about the question now, considering it and rolling it over in his mind, and… no, he doesn’t think that would help.

“I think my main problem is that I’m not--  _ there,  _ right now. Where I can get the news right away. Because if something happens to him I won’t be able to get there for a long time, the hospital nearest to my aunt and uncle’s house is far away from here, and I--” Shuichi presses his hands against his mouth, trying not to start sobbing. “I should’ve just said all this to Aunt Mei when she called me, because I’m sure she would’ve listened, but I’m so bad at-- at verbalising what I want to do, and I guess that means it’s nobody’s fault but mine, but I still--”

Rantaro flounders, looking at a loss for words. Shuichi doesn’t really blame him. There isn’t really anything that Shuichi wants to  _ hear  _ right now, much less that Rantaro could say. “It-- Saihara-kun, you’re-- you’re allowed to be upset that you’re not there,” he seems to know that this isn’t really the concern, though, because he stops talking and looks at him hard. Under different circumstances Shuichi would be concerned by it, the sudden break in Rantaro’s cool composure, but he can’t really be bothered when the flow of tears down his face is so thick they’re soaking into his jacket sleeves. His cheeks are starting to feel sore with the constant up-and-down motion of his sleeves. “I--”

And Shuichi waits, but Rantaro doesn’t finish his sentence, just looks at him for a long moment with a borderline stricken look on his face. It’s odd, really and truly odd, seeing such expressiveness from him. Usually he’s all relaxed smiles and placating gestures. Shuichi wishes he could read minds, if only to know what’s running through Rantaro’s head right now.

In a pained voice, he says, “I’m-- going to grab Akamatsu-san, okay? She-- She’s probably better suited to, to talk to you, than I am.” Shuichi nods, because yeah, that makes sense-- Kaede is  _ superbly  _ good when it comes to comforting people, and she’s astute, too, so she’ll probably be able to figure out that something’s wrong before Rantaro even goes to tell her. Shuichi would like her to be here, anyway; to hear her voice, light and comforting as it always is, and smell the honeysuckle of her shampoo. He lost his crush on her ages ago, but her presence still relaxes him, automatically, and it’s a kind of comfort he’s not going to forego in a hurry.

As Rantaro turns around, Shuichi watches him go-- but for some reason seeing his back makes a lump rise taller in his throat, painful and difficult to swallow around. And it’s… it’s  _ fine,  _ that Rantaro’s leaving, he’s in a truly uncomfortable position right now and Shuichi would go to grab someone else too, he really would, but… leaving just like that, with nothing else said, it… Shuichi clears his throat and forces himself to speak up, ignoring how wobbly his voice comes out through the tears. “Amami-kun,” he calls, and when Rantaro turns around, his expression unreadable, he says, “I’m… sorry. That you had to see this.”

The frown that appears on Rantaro’s face is painful, somehow, like a suckerpunch to the gut, but Shuichi doesn’t have time to process it before Rantaro flips around and walks over to him, strides long and almost desperate, not hesitating or even uttering a word before he engulfs Shuichi in a hug.

(And it’s so… warm. The word for it really is  _ warm,  _ too, because Rantaro is naturally so very warm, and his arms are strong, much steadier than his words have been for the past five minutes, secured around his waist. He smells like campfire smoke and the plastic-y leather of airplane seats, and Shuichi wonders about that, but ultimately lets himself crumple just the teeny tiniest bit, burying his face into Rantaro’s shoulder and releasing a shuddering sob. Kaede’s hugs are good, they’re comforting and tight, but Shuichi fits into Rantaro’s arms like a puzzle piece, and he doesn’t have the energy to try to analyse it because it’s all just so much at once.)

Rantaro doesn’t… say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Shuichi can feel him shake just a little bit, despite the security and warmth that his arms bring, and he lacks the brain power in this moment to think about it, but he marks it down in his memory, flags it for later thought, and wonders if it would be appropriate to let his thoughts shut off for a while.

The sound of approaching footsteps is what breaks the trance, pulls Shuichi roughly from the moment like a hook on the back of his shirt, and it isn’t clear really which one of them pulls away first, only that a second later they’re separated, and Shuichi feels off-center, dizzy, like the embrace was ended much too soon. It’s cold without Rantaro’s arms around him, the stable  _ thump thump thump  _ of his heart against his chest, and Shuichi shivers, wrapping his own arms around himself as Kaede (and Kokichi) appear from around the corner.

Kaede goes to him immediately, like she does always, already pulling her sleeve over her hand to wipe his tears, and she’s all soft edges and gentle smiles, and Shuichi  _ is  _ happy that she’s here, grateful for her presence and the comfort she offers, but…

He still sees it, out of the corner of his eye, how Rantaro’s hand twitches as he moves back, as though he’d like to reach out and touch Shuichi again, but doesn’t dare to-- to step in and take this moment, or whatever his concern really is, Shuichi can’t tell. Even so, Shuichi feels guilty, as Kaede slips an arm around his shoulders and suggests going back to his room, for wishing that Rantaro would hug him again.


	3. Chapter 3

February is Shuichi’s favourite season.

It’s still winter, despite Sestubun’s arrival on the third, and thus pleasantly cold enough for him to justify piling on as many layers at he’d like to. (Although Miu called him a butch lesbian for it once and he hasn’t been able to come up with a good retort. He’d thought that a prerequisite to being a lesbian would be like, attraction only to women. Also, being a woman. But Miu does what she wants.) But the sun starts peeking out through the clouds a bit more, and the cherry blossoms bloom, and there are so many in the courtyard. During February the floor is blanketed in pink petals, and they swirl around in the air. It’s nice to stand in the middle of.

He usually gets cold kind of easy-- having bad circulation and all-- but it’s not a problem with all the layers he’s always piling on. They’re on a field trip today, visiting the Edo Castle. It’s such a tourist attraction, but despite living in Tokyo all his life, Shuichi’s never been here before. He’s seen pictures of the castle during the summertime, and it must be a gorgeous place to go in the warmer months, with the sun shining overhead and the water around the grounds a clear, sparkling blue. Today the sky is grey and there is a layer of thin fog hanging over them, and Shuichi doesn’t mind it but everyone’s been shivering for the past couple hours they’ve been walking around. Probably a bad day for a field trip.

Honestly, he isn’t that cold. He had to take off his jacket for a moment to get his sweater and hand it over to Angie (who has  _ awful  _ cold tolerance, being from a tropical island and constantly coming underprepared for the weather) and that was unpleasant, yeah, but since zipping it back up and sliding his hands into his pockets, he’s been feeling pretty warm.

They’ve been exploring the grounds in groups of four for about fifteen minutes now. Their teacher already assigned travel groups, which explains why Shuichi isn’t hanging out with Maki, Kaede, and Kaito right now, but it’s fine. He needs to branch out a bit and get to know the rest of his class, anyway. Tsumugi and Angie are standing together at the edge of the ground, peering down into the water. His sweater is black and a bit large on Angie, but she seems to be moving freely now that she’s a little warmer, bouncing up and down and tugging on Tsumugi’s hand. They’re not all that close, that Shuichi recalls, but that might change after today. Tsumugi has been laughing at Angie’s antics for as long as they’ve been grouped together.

Oh, and the fourth member of their group is Rantaro, but Rantaro, like Shuichi, hung back from the water’s edge. He looks uncomfortable, actually. His scarf is pulled up over his nose and his arms are tucked in close to his body. If they were closer, Shuichi would tease him about standing so rigidly. He doesn’t think he really has the right to remark upon it, though. At least not in that manner. Maybe he should say something anyway?

“I didn’t know you were so cold-sensitive, Amami-kun,” Shuichi settles upon after a moment of contemplation. Rantaro shoots him a fleeting smile, indicated by the crinkling in his eyes, before burrowing deeper into his scarf. He must be wearing at least four shirts right now, and yet… “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Rantaro says, his voice muffled by the scarf. He certainly  _ sounds  _ cold. He’s typically a bit more animated than he is now. Shuichi turns his face to the side to hide the smile that tugs at his lips. It’s… a bit cute, to be completely frank, but it’s mean to be smiling at Rantaro’s strife, so he tries to swallow it down before speaking again. “Don’t laugh,” Rantaro complains, and Shuichi reaches up to cover his mouth. Oops.

“I’m sorry, I guess the art of subtlety was somewhat lost on me,” Shuichi admits, and Rantaro’s eyebrows shift upwards. His skepticism does nothing to dispel Shuichi’s endearment. “I think it’s sweet, Amami-kun. I had you pegged as the kind of person to give out your jackets.”

“I  _ am,”  _ Rantaro huffs. “Even if it might literally kill me,” he shivers, fully body, and Shuichi really has to hide his smile at that, because he feels kind of mean being amused. It’s just weird seeing Rantaro be anything but totally calm and collected (except for that… one time, when Shuichi was crying, but his uncle is fine now and he’s been trying not to think about it. They haven’t talked about it either and Shuichi doesn’t really plan on changing that) so this is sort of… difficult to repress, in a way. He’s really dressed like there’s a snow storm out, a pale orange beanie pulled down over his ears. It clashes terrible with the shock of green fringe that sticks out, but it’s difficult to find Rantaro’s fashion choices to be appalling at any time.

“You might want to invest in some handwarmers,” Shuichi remarks. “I think I have some in my bag, actually-- uhm, I have really cold hands all the time so I try to be prepared--” he rambles a bit as he digs around in the front pocket of his backpack, biting his tongue. “Oh! Here,” he pulls out a bag and slings his backpack over his shoulder, tearing it open with his teeth and pulling out the warmers. “You probably don’t want to have your hands out of your pockets long enough to shake these, right?” Shuichi glances up to meet Rantaro’s gaze.

“Mm, how long do they take to activate?” Rantaro asks, shuffling closer. To make things easier on him, Shuichi walks over to stand about half a foot away. Rantaro is shivering, nearly imperceptibly, but this close it’s easier to tell. Shuichi frowns, mostly to himself, and shifts so that he’s pressing his side into Rantaro’s. To share his warmth, or whatever. “I--” Rantaro cuts himself off, sounding a bit surprised, and when Shuichi glances up, he thinks he sees a faint blush creeping onto Rantaro’s face, peeking out over his scarf.

“Ah,” Shuichi did it without thinking because it’s something he’d do for Kaede or Kaito; being able to tolerate cold temperatures better than either of them, he doesn’t mind lending out some of his body heat. But he and Rantaro really aren’t that close. “Uhm, sorry, I can move away--”

“It’s fine,” Rantaro interrupts, quickly, and Shuichi bites his bottom lip through a smile, raising his eyebrows. Rantaro turns his head to the side, bringing his shoulders up to his ears. “I-I mean, I don’t mind, it’s okay,” he mumbles, and Shuichi feels a spot of warmth appearing in his chest. He looks back down at his hands, humming. He’s starting to feel the warmth from the handwarmers, spreading through the tiny packets, and it’s a comforting sensation. Like cradling hot coals in his palms, but not nearly as harmful, or obnoxious. He can still feel Rantaro shivering against his side, through the squish of his coat and all the shirts he probably piled on this morning, so when the handwarmers are appropriately hot, he holds them out.

“Uhm, actually,” Shuichi curls his fingers around the cloth packets when Rantaro starts to shift, humming indecisively. “Maybe you don’t want to take your hands out of your pockets? I can probably, uhm,” he shuffles a bit, trying to slide one of the handwarmers into Rantaro’s pocket without him having to remove his hand. It gets a bubbly laugh out of the other boy, which makes all the maneuvering and twisting around worth it, in a way, because it’s such a light, surprised laugh, and it makes Shuichi’s heart flutter for reasons he doesn’t care to try to analyse. When he manages to sneak two of his fingers into Rantaro’s pocket, the handwarmer pressed against his palm, he feels the bump of Rantaro’s palm, and his pulse, thrumming fast against his hand.

Also, his hands are a lot cooler than normal, but that’s to be expected. They’re still decently warm, just not excessively hot, like they’d be normally. Shuichi shifts his palm to press it into Rantaro’s, and smiles a bit when Rantaro’s fingers curl around his own.

“You might have to let me go if I’m going to give you the other handwarmer,” Shuichi points out. He’s standing chest-to-chest with Rantaro now, his eyes about level with the bridge of his nose, and at this close proximity he sees a light dusting of freckles over his cheeks that he hadn’t seen before. They’re pale, likely because Rantaro hasn’t seen a lot of sun recently, but Shuichi wonders what he looks like in the middle of the summer, when the freckles are more prominent and his skin is sunkissed. Nice, probably. But he looks good now, too… his eyelashes flutter idly, and his eyes are a deep, swirling shade. Too pale to be emerald, but then, Shuichi’s not really an expert at naming shades of green.

He slides his free hand into Rantaro’s other pocket, maneuvering his hand around to give him the handwarmer. It’s almost automatic, the way that their fingers lace together, as though they’re holding hands with the handwarmers tucked in between. It’s remarkably… intimate, that’s what Shuichi would call it; he’s never done something like this with anyone before. Kaito’s very physical but he’s not exactly tender. He’s more for a shoulder slap or a side-hug. Not with Maki, of course, but Kaito’s relationship with Maki is more… on the romantic, flirtatious side of things. At this distance, he can see the slightest crinkling of Rantaro’s eyes, hinting that there’s a smile playing at his lips. “Your hands are still cold, even now,” he murmurs.

“Ah, yeah,” Shuichi glances away, feeling his face warm at the observation. “I told you, my circulation is awful. Shinguji-kun’s is worse, though. I helped him up from the floor once and it genuinely felt like I was pulling up a dead person.” To add context, Shuichi elaborates quietly; “He wasn’t wearing his bandages then. Usually it’s difficult to gauge cold temperatures through fabric.”

“You would know what a dead person’s hand should feel like, I guess,” Rantaro muses, tilting his head to the side. “Do you work with a lot of dead bodies?” When Shuichi shrugs his shoulders, a bit embarrassed at the suddenness of the question, Rantaro’s smile seems to broaden. “You’re not very squeamish, are you, Saihara-kun?”

“Well, it’s difficult to be squeamish in my field,” Shuichi says, a tad indignantly. “But I’ve never been all that sensitive to that sort of thing. I mean, I suppose the sight of an injury on a live person  _ would  _ unnerve me, but only because of the implications. The sight of blood isn’t a large squick of mine.” Rantaro is a bit of a normie, so maybe he won’t know what the word squick means. Shuichi is prepared to explain, but Rantaro doesn’t ask. (It makes a bit of sense; Rantaro is intelligent enough to pick up on the definition based on context alone. It’s sort of a low-hanging fruit.)

Rantaro hums, tilting his head forward just slightly. “It reminds me of one of my younger sisters, her name was Satsuki. She was very bold. I don’t think she ever flinched at the sight of blood. I fell off my bike once while I was spending time with her and scraped up my elbow really bad, but she was really calm about it. I was kind of freaked out, though,” he chuckles, his tone fond, and Shuichi marvels at the expression on his face. He knows Rantaro’s an older brother because he’s mentioned having  _ a  _ younger sister once or twice, but… Shuichi bites his lip.

“Uhm,” Shuichi pauses, trying to figure out the most tactful way to word his question. “Her name  _ was  _ Satsuki?” He probes, very gently, because he doesn’t want it to seem like the only thing he picked up from that anecdote was the wording. It’s just… he can’t help noticing. And there’s the nostalgic, almost melancholic look in Rantaro’s green eyes that caught his attention, but he decides not to call attention to that.

“Ah,” Rantaro tenses a little bit. “Sorry, did I say was? I meant is,” he chuckles, sounding a bit strained. Shuichi frowns, but Rantaro doesn’t seem to notice. He must know that he’s being unconvincing though, that even if Shuichi wasn’t the supposed  _ Ultimate Detective,  _ he’d be able to tell that Rantaro isn’t telling the truth. He can feel the tightening of Rantaro’s fingers, interlocked with his own, and the gentle press of the heating pad against his own palms.

“Amami-kun,” Shuichi hesitates. He doesn’t want to ask, because it feels like… a violation of privacy. But he’s never really been all that good at letting well enough alone, and Rantaro is like… a walking mystery, in the sense that, Shuichi can’t figure out what makes him tick. He’s only around and in class with everyone else half of the time, out traveling to wherever for whatever reason the rest of it. And Kaede says that it’s probably something important-- Shuichi agrees-- but still, to keep it so close to his chest… either it’s something awful, something  _ dangerous…  _ or Rantaro needs to say it aloud, because keeping such a secret can’t be healthy. “Did something happen to your--”

“Yoo-hoo!” Angie plops her head down on Shuichi’s shoulder, and Shuichi jumps, having forgotten where they were. The cold wind and the grey sky had been momentarily forgotten, all the other colours blurring into a smudge around them. Shuichi saw only green for a second there. “Tsumugi and Angie wanna go into the forest! Sensei said we should stick in a group of four, so you two should stop cuddling and come with us! Mhm, mhm!”

“It’s very cute, though,” Tsumugi assures, standing a more comfortable distance away from them, an amiable smile on her face. Shuichi’s face warms as he untangles his fingers from Rantaro’s, pulling them out of his pockets, but he isn’t embarrassed so much as he is disappointed by the interruption. He doesn’t really think that Rantaro would’ve told him the truth-- not without a lot more pushing. But even so, if there’s a truth to be told, he… well, is it even right to  _ pry  _ in that area? Rantaro throws a hand on the back of his neck, his scarf slipping down his face to reveal an abashed smile, and he says something in a very relaxed tone of voice, if slightly flustered.

He even allows Angie to latch onto his arm as they start walking again, keeping pace with her and Tsumugi on the way over to the thick patch of trees ahead of them. Shuichi walks more slowly, though, biting his lip. He feels slightly cold now, his hands empty and swinging at his sides, but beyond that, he… couldn’t have been imagining it, the way that Rantaro was avoiding his gaze as he spoke to Angie just now, could he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love a good cold huddle. this one goes to KathyDann, friend thank u for your service and for your amasai series.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty emotionally charged. Also uh injury trigger warning. Nothing in detail.

Shuichi was  _ not  _ imagining it.

  


As it turns out, Rantaro is a master at the art of avoidance. Ducking out of rooms whenever Shuichi might stand a chance of lingering in them, laughing nervously and making excuses to exit conversations that he enters, avoiding eye contact whenever they  _ do  _ interact. It kind of stings, honestly. It would sting a lot more if Shuichi wasn’t absolutely one hundred percent certain that he knows the reason for Rantaro’s shiftiness. Something  _ clearly  _ happened to one of his sisters and he doesn’t want to talk about it.

  


How many sisters does the guy have, though? Shuichi did some research into the Amamis a couple nights after the trip to Edo Castle, out of curiosity, and there was virtually no private information available about Ichirou Amami (Rantaro’s father) aside from the fact that his heir and eldest son is at Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Survivor. Shuichi couldn’t find anything about Rantaro’s mother, or any potential sisters. But he has to have them, if he references them all the time. Perhaps there’s a reason why there’s no information about them online?

  


Uncle Akifumi has worked a number of cases for Ichirou Amami in the past, but he raised his eyebrows when Shuichi mentioned daughters over dinner. School would be ending in a couple weeks, but it was a Sunday, and there aren’t really any restrictions on where Hope’s Peak students can go in their free time, so Shuichi took the bus. “I knew he had a son,” Akifumi said after a moment, delicately laying down his chopsticks at the edge of the plate. “But I’ve never heard anything about any daughters.”

  


“Mm. That’s what I’ve been able to find online, too,” Shuichi replied, frowning at his plate. “It’s so strange. Amami-kun is very liberal with the information, and yet I can’t find even a hint of it online. The Wikipedia article lists him as an only-child.”

  


“Why were you reading this boy’s Wikipedia article?” Akifumi smiled. “Do you have a crush on him?”

  


“Uncle Akifumi!” Shuichi cried, indignant. “I’m starting to think that it was a mistake coming out out to you as bisexual.”

  


“I’m just saying,” Akifumi raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You haven’t read Akamatsu-san’s Wikipedia article, have you?” He hummed, his brow furrowing. “Well, I suppose you had a really big crush on Akamatsu-san, so maybe that doesn’t mean anything. I might’ve just contradicted myself.”

  


“Can we please not talk about my crushes?” Shuichi groaned, fanning his face so that it wouldn’t heat up anymore than it already had. “I was just curious about it. Amami-kun is very open about the fact that he has sisters, but there’s something… closed off, about him, I suppose. It’s difficult to describe. I’d like… to know what his circumstances are, and if…” Well, if there’s any way that he can help, but saying that to Uncle Akifumi felt embarrassing and pointless, and also a bit like sharing too much of Rantaro’s information. He didn’t need to let on that it was something that might’ve required his assistance. “There’s a… specific reason his father is so secretive about it,” he decided upon.

  


“I can do some digging if you’d like,” his uncle offered after a moment of thought. “But it might be better to just ask your friend. He’d probably prefer it if you talked to him rather than asking your big scary PI uncle to do research for you.”

  


“Big scary PI?” Shuichi asked, half smiling. “You’re only 5’9”.”

  


“That’s very tall for a Japanese man,” Akifumi frowned, indignant. “I don’t need to hear this from my own nephew. How tall are you now, 4’8”?”

  


“O-Of course I’m not?”

  


Needless to say, Shuichi didn’t end up accepting his uncle’s offer of help. Not because of the dig at his height (Akifumi was just joking; he’s made much worse jokes before so Shuichi’s essentially desensitised by now) but rather because he had a point. Rantaro would probably hate to hear that Shuichi snooped around in his background to find out what is so clearly such a big secret for him. He just can’t move past it-- whenever he’s spaced off in class over the past week and a half, he’s defaulted to playing back the deep, tired sadness that he saw in Rantaro’s eyes on the field trip. He can’t come up with a good explanation for it. Did his sister  _ die?  _ As awful as that would be, it’s not really something he should have to lie about, is it?

  


Maybe the problem is Shuichi. Maybe it isn’t that Rantaro doesn’t trust people with his secrets, it’s that he doesn’t trust  _ Shuichi  _ with his secrets. Shuichi doesn’t consider himself to be an untrustworthy person by any means, but then again… he sort of specialises in unraveling secrets. Maybe that makes Rantaro nervous. Or maybe it really is just him. Maybe he’s not reliable enough, or something. Kaede said that she thought he’d be unreliable when they first met. Could that be his problem?

  


Whatever the case is, he wasn’t anticipating how much it would hurt to be ignored so completely by Rantaro. It’s not that they interacted any significant amount, but Rantaro’s always hung around at the back of group interactions, making a lighthearted joke or meeting Shuichi’s gaze across the room with a warm, crinkly smile. He hasn’t tried to mess up Shuichi’s hair even once recently, and it’s a gesture that he finds annoying but for some reason he misses it. He sort of just misses being somebody who Rantaro talks to, though. The way he slips out of rooms so quickly after classes are over, deliberately avoiding eye contact with Shuichi as he goes, it’s… not the best.

  


March arrives, and with it the last three weeks of the school year. Rantaro heads off on another trip, presumably without telling anybody-- though about a day into it Korekiyo remarks that Rantaro will be back by the end of the week, and so people stop talking about it. Well, for the most part. The gossip stops (which, thank god, because Shuichi deplores gossip on the best of days) but that doesn’t mean the topic of Rantaro is dropped entirely.

  


Or, in other words, on Wednesday during lunch, Shuichi hangs around in the classroom to work on an assignment (and partly to get his mind off of his speculating) and Kaito and Maki drop into the desks in front of him. One much more ceremoniously than the other; Kaito nearly knocks the chair over. Kaede slips into her own desk, sliding a tray of yakitori in front of him. Kirumi’s seasoning is on point. The smell at least is enough to draw his gaze up from his work.

  


“So, what’s the deal with you and Amami?” Kaito asks, without any prompting, and Maki elbows him in the side. Not hard enough to hurt, Shuichi is sure, because Maki would never do anything to hurt Kaito in any way, but still enough to make him gasp and jerk away from her. “Ow, what was that for, Harumaki?”

  


“Do you lack tact?” She hisses, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  


“What, were you going to start up with a,  _ hi, how are you?  _ You literally walked away in the middle of our conversation yesterday!”

  


“I’ve been picking up tricks from Kirigiri,” Maki admits, giving a small, self-satisfied smile, which she quickly stifles, clearing her throat into a fist. “Anyway, not the point. I was going to let Akamatsu lead, since she’s better at these things than either of us are.”

  


“There’s no point in that now,” Kaede huffs, crossing her arms. “Jeez, you guys! Can’t you save your spousal quarrels for later?”

  


Maki’s cheeks redden at the word  _ spousal;  _ she grips one of her pigtails and fixes Kaede with a death glare. “Are you asking for me to kill you?”

  


“Nope, absolutely not,” Kaede chuckles quietly, shaking her head. “Thanks for the offer, though, Harukawa-san.”

  


“Uhm,” Shuichi smiles awkwardly. “You guys wanted to ask me about Amami-kun, right?”

  


Perhaps they had forgotten that Shuichi was here. All three of them jump, turning back to look at them, and Shuichi’s smile takes a turn for the amused. He loves his friends, especially these three since they’re so much calmer than the others, but even they can be remarkably easily distracted at times. He lowers his pencil down to the paper though, figuring that they’ll probably want his focus to be on the conversation, rather than the worksheet. And, beyond that… he should probably come up with some way to word what went on between him and Rantaro without lying but without exposing any potentially volatile secrets of Rantaro’s either. Communication is so difficult with all of its nuances. Shuichi would opt out of it if he could. Spare everyone the complications.

  


“Uh, yeah, man,” Kaito rubs the back of his neck. “You two are really tense with each other. Never making eye contact n’ shit. And every time I’ve been talking to him and you walk up to me, he’s made an excuse about the bathroom. The guy can’t  _ possibly  _ have to piss that much!”

  


Maki’s mouth twitches, as though she’s considering referencing John Mulaney, but ultimately fights down the urge. “I’ve noticed the same thing. I didn’t want to put you on the spot, Saihara. Amami’s always been a little dodgy. But this is unreal.”

  


“You’ve seemed distracted lately, too,” Kaede adds softly. “Is everything okay?”

  


They’re all very kind. Shuichi drops his hands into his lap and curls his fingers together, squeezing tight so that he can concentrate and not do something stupid, like start crying. “Uhm, it…” he decides to simply explain what happened in a very general, vague way, so as not to reveal details. He’d still like for them to have a clear picture, if possible. “I think I, ah, came close to discovering a secret of Amami-kun’s, recently. Or at the very least, he told me more than he meant to. I probably probed a bit too hard, though, and that must have made him uncomfortable.”

  


“Hmmm,” Kaede rests her elbows on the desk and her chin in her hands, squishing her cheeks with her fingers as she hums. “I guess that’s characteristic of Amami-kun, but it still sucks to be in your position, Saihara-kun,” she looks at him very seriously. “You’re always so respectful about these things. I don’t imagine that you would ask unless you thought it was important.”

  


“I appreciate your faith in my character, Akamatsu-san,” Shuichi says quietly. “I wonder if Amami-kun is avoiding me because he thinks I’ll question him further the next time we speak? Which he wouldn’t necessarily be wrong in thinking, I suppose, but if he just told me he doesn’t want to talk about it…”

  


“If he does that, you should keep pushing,” Kaito drums his fingers on the desk, and Shuichi raises his eyebrows. “Amami’s a real secretive kinda guy, isn’t he? That’s not healthy. Keeping everything all bottled up. He needs a little bit of a push. You’re good at that, at the pushing shit, without hurting people. You don’t have to force him to talk, or anything, but you can still let him know you’re not gonna go anywhere until you get some answers! A little gentle peer pressure never hurt anybody!”

  


Shuichi isn’t sure that that’s necessarily the solution. Kaito is so brash, those kinds of strategies are the ones that he defaults to. But he doesn’t know what Rantaro’s situation even is. It could be  _ deeply  _ personal, like a death in the family, or else his sister might have some kind of terminal disease, or any number of awful things could be happening. And even if it’s not, Shuichi probably isn’t the person who Rantaro wants knowing about all that stuff. They’re hardly acquainted, after all. Just distant friends who are in the same homeroom class. Maybe not even that anymore, with the way that Rantaro’s been avoiding him recently.

  


Well… ouch. Okay. Shuichi’s not unused to people leaving him-- not wanting to be around him anymore, taking their leave of his life, politely ending their relationship, whatever, it’s all semantics anyway-- but the idea of Rantaro not wanting to be friends with him anymore is… awful. And not even because Rantaro is going to be in his class for the next two years, and they’re just going to have to  _ deal with that,  _ if Rantaro decides not to be associated with him anymore, but also, like… ah. It’s difficult to say to himself without feeling embarrassed, which is very stupid because nobody knows what he’s thinking but him. It’s just that, like… Shuichi wants to be friends with Rantaro. Or even closer than that, if only because Rantaro’s arms were warm and comforting the time he embraced him a couple months ago and those moments before Rantaro revealed the information about his sister, where they were just laughing and teasing each other, they were…

  


They were nice. And natural. And-- and  _ easy,  _ in a way that it is truly difficult for Shuichi to emulate with other people. He gets crushes all the time, sure, and usually it’s because the people he’s interested in make him feel comfortable, but it’s just… it’s different with Rantaro. And hard to explain. And losing that dynamic would suck, it really would. Shuichi really doesn’t want Rantaro to hate him.

  


When the following Monday rolls around, Rantaro returns to school. Well, what Shuichi means by that is, he steps into the classroom in the morning and sees him, seated in his regular spot near the back of the room, his gaze trained out the window and his expression cloudy. It brightens up automatically when Kirumi takes the spot next to him, and he turns to her with a smile and what is undoubtedly a question about her morning, but… Shuichi might just be imagining it, might be looking for things that aren’t there, but he thinks he sees a flicker of something in Rantaro’s eyes as he turns to her, something undecipherable but also unquestionably unpleasant.

  


It eats at him. He’s never been all that good at letting things go. That’s probably something that makes him a good detective, if he even is one in the first place, (and Kyoko keeps saying so, which makes it hard for him to deny her, if only because he trusts her opinion to a fault), the total refusal to let things go when they arise. But it’s also been what’s kept him obsessing over Rantaro’s iciness for the past couple weeks, and that just hasn’t been ideal.

  


Shuichi sits in the front of the room with Kaito and Kaede, right next to the window. Rantaro is two rows back, directly behind him with Kokichi seated in between. It’s a seating arrangement that works well for Shuichi most days, who focuses better when he’s in the front, but that also prevents him from glancing back and trying to size Rantaro up. He’s probably thinking far too hard about it. Maybe even bordering on obsessing over it. It’s just that he can’t turn off his brain when it starts running and he’s starting to feel really guilty for even asking in the first place. Maybe calling attention to the wording there made Rantaro remember something awful.

  


At the very least he should address what happened. He doesn’t need to get any answers (he supposes) but he can still attempt to salvage their friendship. Or something. Hear it from Rantaro directly if he doesn’t want to talk anymore at the very least. Which Shuichi really hopes isn’t going to happen, but it’s hard to keep his anxieties at bay when he’s not verbalising them. He should start going back to therapy. But he should definitely talk to Rantaro first. Communication is messy but it’s also fundamental.

  


Morning classes go by as normal, and Shuichi doesn’t get a chance to stick around and try to talk to him because Kokichi grabs his arm, rambling something about a dramatic heist he needs Shuichi to check out and dragging him out of the classroom. (It turns out being another prank on Miu, though this one is strangely harmless; just switching out all the regular lightbulbs in her room for pink ones. At any rate, Shuichi lacks the energy or the piece of mind to deny him, and when he’s released to go eat, the dining hall is already half empty. And, naturally, Rantaro is not present.

  


Today, Shuichi doesn’t even bother grabbing up his belongings when the bell rings. He gets to his feet and is the second person out the door, right after Rantaro, who slips down the hall without so much as a glance over his shoulder. He moves swiftly, purposefully down the hallway, Shuichi finds it in himself to be impressed, ducking past the other students who begin to fill the halls, on their way back to the dorms, or else to go off campus. It doesn’t really matter, the specifics of their afternoon plans. Rantaro’s head disappears out of the main building and Shuichi follows him across the courtyard.

  


He catches up when they reach the dorms (which are much less crowded, as the first year dorms are separate from the other two classes, a ways across the school grounds) and as Rantaro puts his hand on the door, Shuichi cups his mouth with his own and calls out, “Amami-kun, wait!”

  


It seems Rantaro simply lacks the willpower required to ignore him entirely, because he turns around, a distant, flat-looking smile on his face. He waits for Shuichi to catch up, (slightly out of breath, but only from moving so quickly and around so many people), his hand resting on the doorknob still and his brows raised placidly. If the expression touched his eyes at all, Shuichi would buy it, but as things are his expression appears more strained than pleasant. “Hey there,” he greets. He shifts his person, opening the door further to hold it for Shuichi, who doesn’t move. The tiniest of frowns appears on his face. “Uhm, Saihara-kun, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m kind of in a hurry-- I have a lot of work to get caught up on after missing last week, y’know? It was probably a bad thing for me to miss the third-to-last week of school, haha.”

  


Biting his lip, Shuichi says quietly, “I wanted to talk to you.”

  


“Yeah?” Rantaro’s voice is kind of tight. Shuichi can’t tell why-- if it’s with irritation, frustration, some other kind of emotion or what, but it makes his chest give a distantly painful squeeze. Rantaro clearly doesn’t reciprocate, not at all. “I’m happy to catch up at any time, but I really think I should go right now, later if you come find me I’ll tell you if I’m available, okay?”

  


“But, it’s,” Shuichi swallows, feeling a bit pathetic and knowing that he’d only feel worse if he started crying and made Rantaro comfort him. “I’ve been-- wanting to talk to you about it for a while, but--”

  


For some reason, Rantaro’s expression is… pained. “Uhm,” he swallows. Shuichi sees his grip tightening on the doorknob. “I know, I-- I’m sorry, but I really need you to-- ah,” he clears his throat, managing a shaky smile. “I’m really sorry. I just really need to go right now.” He claps a hand on Shuichi’s shoulder, squeezing, and the gesture would usually make him happy-- that Rantaro is meeting his gaze right now, smiling, even, should make him  _ happy--  _ but for some reason he feels a lump rising in his throat, an awful burning in his eyes, as Rantaro starts to move away.

  


Shuichi grasps the door as it falls shut, shoving it back open again and surging forward. Rantaro hardly got a chance to move (and he’s been moving somewhat slowly since they started talking) so when Shuichi reaches for his arm, he doesn’t have to reach very far. Rantaro jerks to a stop when he grasps his shirt, but before he can say anything, Shuichi blurts, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

  


“Avoiding you?” Rantaro repeats, stunned. “I-- I haven’t been--”

  


“Yes, you have,” and Shuichi knows he’s been irrational, overly emotional-- letting his emotions rule his decision-making again, potentially even ruining any chances he  _ has  _ of keeping this friendship, whatever it is-- but he can’t stop himself from continuing to speak, something hot and bitter crawling up and burning his throat, the back of his mouth. “Ever since the field trip, you haven’t even been looking at me-- this is the first time you willingly stayed in the same room as me since then, or even said anything to me,” Shuichi inhales. “I know you-- don’t mean anything by it, probably, but I really don’t like-- being lied to, Amami-kun.”

  


“I--” Rantaro cuts off, wincing. “I’m-- I’m really sorry, I-- I promise, I’ll explain later, I just--” he rests one of his hands on Shuichi’s wrist, the one that’s holding his shirt sleeve, and Shuichi notices how… clammy his hand is,  _ much  _ cooler than usual. Is he shaking? Shuichi feels the anger that bubbled up in him starting to burn off, being replaced by something much more poignant; dread. “I need-- fuck,” Rantaro closes his eyes, panting.

  


“Wh-- Are you okay? What--”

  


“Fine,” Rantaro grips his wrist though, and from the weak hold that Shuichi feels on his arm, Rantaro doesn’t really  _ feel  _ fine. “I’m okay, I-- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… dodged talking to you, I just--” the subject change (or rather, the reversion to the original subject) feels off-putting, unbalanced, and Shuichi reaches out, resting his hand on Rantaro’s side as though to stabilise him, only for Rantaro to hiss and jerk away from his touch, clapping a hand over his mouth. His skin is so pale, beads of sweat forming and trickling down from his forehead, and--

  


And how the  _ fuck  _ did Shuichi not notice this earlier? “I-- Oh my god, Amami-kun, wh-- what happened?” It’s a rhetorical question, though, just something that Shuichi asks to fill space. “Where-- I-- I’m--” God, he’s such an idiot. He’s supposed to be a detective. Rantaro wasn’t at lunch today, probably because he was in his dorm, taking care of whatever the  _ fuck  _ is ailing him right now, and he was trying to get away not because he’s trying to avoid the conversation (whether or not he wants to do that is irrelevant, unimportant) but because he seems like-- he seems like he’s going to pass out, or die, or--   
  


“Nn, sorry,” Rantaro cracks a smile, and when he leans forward, resting his head on Shuichi’s shoulder, Shuichi doesn’t protest. Although he does shift a bit, awkwardly moving his hand to cradle Rantaro’s back, letting out a silent relieved yell when it doesn’t make him wince. “I’m usually more careful than this, haha… I’m fine, Saihara-kun, you don’t have to worry…”

  


“What were you even doing that got you--” Shuichi flounders for words. He doesn’t know what’s  _ wrong--  _ presumably there’s some kind of injury on Rantaro’s side, but he doesn’t know what, or why it’s there, or what happened-- or why Rantaro isn’t in the hospital right now, and is instead leaning on his shoulder, shaking and breathing heavily. “Is-- Can I take you to the--”

  


“This would be so much easier,” Rantaro breathes, cutting him off(and also disregarding what he’s saying, but Shuichi can’t find it in himself to mind). “If I didn’t like you so much.”

  


“Th-That--” Shuichi’s breath hitches. He feels Rantaro’s hand curling around the fabric of his jacket, closing into a fist like the grip will stabilise him. Shuichi doesn’t know what to do. “I--”

  


“I  _ am  _ sorry, though,” he mutters. “Felt bad and got careless. My fault, really-- usually ‘s my fault when stuff like this happens, sorry that you have to deal with it,” and more quietly, “sorry if I made you cry at all, Saihara-kun.”

  


Shuichi is pretty sure that if Rantaro keeps saying stuff like that he’s going to  _ start  _ crying; he was close before but he’s teetering on the edge of it now, torn between panic and self-deprecation, and the fact that Rantaro isn’t even upset at him for being so self-focused is… not making things any better. “D-Don’t be sorry, I-- uhm, try leaning on me, alright? I’m going to take you to the nurse,” Shuichi moves his arm to slide it underneath Rantaro’s propping him up as well as he can being a few inches shorter, and Rantaro tries to cooperate but it’s clear that he’s starting to feel really dizzy. When he lifts his head a little bit he blinks rapidly, as though unable to get his bearings, and then eventually just drops it back down onto Shuichi’s shoulder.

  


And it’s… it’s not going to work, because they have to go all the way back to the infirmary, and Shuichi’s barely propping him up as is and Rantaro feels so weak and shuddery against him-- what he really needs to do is to carry him, to slip an arm under his legs and pick him up bridal style, but he’s not sure that he’s strong enough and dropping him would just make things worse. Rantaro actually  _ shivers  _ against him, though, and it makes another painful lump form in Shuichi’s throat. He can say what he wants about self-improvement and confidence, but when it comes down to it, in situations like this where he’s actually needed, he’s… essentially useless. Always relying on other people to help him. In his position, Rantaro would be capable of so much. He’d be able to assist the other person no matter what. But Shuichi is just… helpless.

  


He opts to make a phone call instead, keeping the tears out of his voice and trying to be as coherent as possible. Rantaro stirs against him, his breaths uneven and warm against his neck, but Shuichi refuses to think about it, listening to Kaito’s reassurances over the phone that he’ll be right here, and--

  


And there’s a momentary silence in the wake of the call, Kaito’s voice replaced by the faint, stifled sounds that come from Rantaro, and Shuichi is trying not to think too hard about it or else he’s just going to collapse, but it’s difficult, it really is. He can feel Rantaro shifting, the hand that still rests on his shoulder (put there when Shuichi slipped his arm around Rantaro’s back) squeezing, as though to get his attention. “Are you mad at me, Saihara-kun?”

  


What a strange question for this moment. Shuichi swallows hard and manages to say, “No, o-of course I’m not mad at you, I--”

  


“Okay, I’m,” Rantaro inhales. “I’m glad, ‘cause I don’t think I’d be able to bear it if you were mad at me.”

  


Shuichi bites his lip. It’s getting more and more difficult to keep his tears at bay. “I--”

  


The door to the dorms bursts open, and to her credit Maki moves in without a word, quick and efficient as always, firmly (but gently) disentangling Rantaro and Shuichi from each other to lift Rantaro onto her back. She’s so much stronger than Shuichi is and so blatantly, it makes a knot form in his chest but he tries to unravel it because using Maki’s strength as a reason to self-deprecate is… low, even for him. Kaito is here too, and he slings an arm around Shuichi’s shoulders, and it’s… it’s warm, but it’s…

  


It’s not Rantaro, that’s probably what the problem is. Shuichi feels so horribly selfish, though, wishing that it was.


	5. Chapter 5

Rantaro ends up in the hospital. Shuichi knows logically that it’s the best place for him to be, if he was so ready to keel over when they were talking together outside the dorms. But he doesn’t return by the end of the school year. They’re just going to see each other again in a couple weeks, after spring break is over-- in April, everyone will see each other again. But the four weeks between when Rantaro goes and the beginning of the new school year feel an impossibly long amount of time and Shuichi doesn’t know fully how to cope with it.

So, he doesn’t.

Somewhere he registers that Kaito wants to talk about it, ask him what happened in the first place and why he shut himself up in his room in the aftermath, but something-- maybe Maki-- keeps him from pushing the subject. And Shuichi is grateful for both Maki’s intervention and for her respect, but part of him wishes that Kaito  _ would  _ make him talk about it. Keep his mind off of the ugliness of what happened, and the disgusting black guilt that crawls all over his lungs whenever he’s in bed at night with no stimuli. But the thought of bringing it up himself (which he supposes is what Kaito is waiting for) feels equally unbearable and so Shuichi refrains.

There isn’t much school work left to be done. By the last week of school, the third years have graduated, and the halls feel empty without the click of Mahiru Koizumi’s camera shutter, and Kazuichi Souda yelling about some new project he started on. It’s not that Shuichi was particularly close to any of them, it’s just that it was so obvious how much they all loved each other, it was nice to have them around. Their graduation ceremony was long and tedious but at the end of it they were all crying and hugging each other, talking about plans for the future and keeping in touch, and it was… it was a lot. Shuichi ended up leaving early, silently, by himself-- and Kokichi made like he wanted to follow him but Kaede stopped him.

(And again he was so grateful for the respect, for the consideration, but… for a moment he wished she hadn’t. Kokichi’s so in-your-face and harsh about these matters, but at least he’d draw a reaction out of him. Shuichi hasn’t even cried over it. He feels like he’s drifting.)

Shuichi spends a lot (perhaps an inordinate amount) of time thinking. Just, in general, he supposes. He really misread Rantaro’s behaviour back then. Well-- not his behaviour prior to the trip. That was evasiveness plain and simple, but it probably wasn’t all that personal. In the infirmary, Mikan Tsumiki-- who graduated a week ago-- fussed over him, asking what on earth had happened and why he didn’t go to a doctor, and he dodged her questions as though he’d been doing it all his life. Shuichi’s about ready to say that he has.

The thing is, it’s none of his business. Sure, he’s got that whole,  _ detective curiosity  _ thing, but putting that to the side, there’s no reason for Shuichi to be so fussed over it. He’s considered a couple times again that it’s the fact that he doesn’t  _ know  _ the specifics that irks him so much, but honestly, it’s never been a problem before. A few times he noticed a degree of upset from his other classmates, and he went to check up on them, but when they brushed him off he let it rest. It bothered him that he couldn’t help but it didn’t bother him that they didn’t trust him. That’s the nature of relationships; sometimes you’re closer to one person than another. Shuichi’s not going to be upset by Himiko’s decision to confide in Kokichi rather than him, or even invalidated by it. Kokichi and Himiko are close in ways that Shuichi and Himiko aren’t.

He should work on adopting this mindset with the Rantaro situation too. It’s just that there’s something about it that keeps him up at night, forms knots in his chest when he’s not concentrating on keeping them untangled and makes his head spin with anxiety. Rantaro doesn’t seem to  _ have  _ anybody who he’s that close to, or that he confides in. Shuichi toyed with the idea that that was what bothered him for a while, this feeling of glorified pity for his classmate, but it just didn’t feel right. He doesn’t  _ pity  _ Rantaro. Rantaro isn’t a pitiful person. He’s quite competent, actually. Put-together. Composed. He helps other people.

(He helps  _ Shuichi.) _

And maybe that’s the problem-- maybe that’s been the problem the whole time. It’s not that the feeling of being distrusted is hurtful, though it could be if Rantaro was cruel about it, which he’s not. (Just a little bit insensitive, maybe, but Shuichi can’t fault him for that.) It’s that the feeling of being distrusted by  _ Rantaro  _ is what stings so much, this idea that Rantaro would look at him as somebody who he can’t rely on, can’t talk to, can’t put his trust in.

Shuichi doesn’t think he’s the epitome of reliability. Kaede even said that he looks to be the opposite, which sucks, but there’s not much that he can do about it. It’s just-- well, maybe he’s always thought that Rantaro was somebody he could rely on. Even if he wasn’t willing to accept whatever offered assistance there was, on the grounds that they’re not all that well-acquainted and that’s not Rantaro’s job, really, the fact of the matter is that Rantaro’s still been  _ there.  _ He’s gone half the time but in many ways he’s much more of a stabilising presence than say Kaito, who gives a whole lot but never accepts anything in return (which makes Shuichi feel like shit) or Kokichi, who is kind if you work hard to see it but can be exhausting at times.

Reciprocity is something that’s always meant a lot to him. It’s why he started working at his uncle’s detective agency to begin with, this deep-seated desire to repay his uncle for taking him in. And Akifumi said that it wasn’t necessary, that he’s happy to do it, but people don’t really mean that. They just say it, as a courtesy. Akifumi is a wonderful person but he’s entitled to that. It’s the least Shuichi can do. Even if sometimes he’s kept up late at night by the memories of whatever body he examined in the day. It’s fine.

Whatever Rantaro is out doing (and Shuichi assumes because he always assumes that it’s somehow related to his sisters) is dangerous. Like, blatantly, in-your-face kind of dangerous. One of their upperclassmen showed up at the infirmary after a while, a scary-looking girl with icy grey eyes and short black hair, and she didn’t say anything but she seemed unsurprised to see Rantaro lying there, resting herself against the doorframe. As though this was a normal thing. If Rantaro gets hurt  _ that badly,  _ and often-- what he’s doing can’t be as simple as going around and establishing business deals for his father. Unless his father is an  _ internationally  _ hated figure, in which case he has no right to send Rantaro out as his errand-boy. Shuichi sort of thinks he doesn’t have that right regardless, if only because Rantaro is missing so much school all the time, but alas… not his business. Not his place.

It makes him… worried. Not that Rantaro is doing dangerous things-- well, maybe a little bit that, but it’s not like being a detective is the safest thing ever either so Shuichi is hardly one to talk-- but that he’s out and he’s alone and he doesn’t seem to trust anybody. That girl who showed up in the infirmary (Mikan called her  _ Ikusaba-san,  _ which means she’s probably Mukuro Ikusaba, which is a name that Shuichi has heard but never attached to a person) seemed to be a bit keyed in, but not much. When she established that Rantaro was going to be okay, she squeezed his hand and then left. Shuichi wonders if anyone was waiting by Rantaro’s side in the hospital when he woke up.

(The idea of waking up alone after something like that… is sad. Shuichi doesn’t know how else to describe it.)

The school year ends, finally, on a Friday. Kaede gives him a big hug and an invitation to call her any time, though she and her dads live pretty far north so it’ll be difficult to hang out too often. It’s fine; they’ll see each other again in a couple weeks. Kaede’s twin sister hangs around by her car, and they look a lot alike, though Kashiko’s hair is cut chin-length, jagged but stylish, and the ends are dyed blue. She has a couple cartilage piercings too, something Kaede is much too soft to attempt to pull off.

Kaito throws an arm around his shoulders before heading off with his grandparents, talking loudly about something or another, and as Shuichi watches them pile into their little, beat-up Toyota, his aunt’s car pulls up to the curb, so he grabs his bag and heads to hop in the car. He doesn’t need to take the bulk of his belongings, really, just some laundry that hasn’t been done. He’ll be back in a couple weeks. As he gets in the passenger side, he waves over his shoulder at Maki, who rolls her eyes at him but cracks a smile. He asked her who she’s going home with, but she just threatened to kill him, so he thought it would be better to let the subject rest.

April isn’t a bad time of year. Shuichi isn’t fond of the heat, but he spends the first few days of the break inside working anyway with his fan on full blast, so it doesn’t really make a difference. It’s sort of hard to focus (there’s a lot to think about) but he tries his best. Solves a couple cases. Maybe not enough to call himself any sort of Ultimate Detective, but… he gets few a couple of them.

A text comes in from Kaede on Tuesday, as Shuichi is getting a bottle of lemonade from the fridge downstairs. It’s not his first choice of beverage but it’s cold, and that’s nice. He really overheats way too easily. As he takes a long drink from the bottle, he swipes at the lock screen, typing in his password with his thumb and clicking the notification.

_ [Saihara-kun, do you have Amami-kun’s phone number?] _

Shuichi nearly chokes on his lemonade, slamming down the bottle on the counter and wheezing as he tries to expel the sour taste from his lungs. He hears Aunt Mei calling from upstairs and yells out, “I’m alright, I just choked on my drink,” before sucking in a deep breath, putting his wet hand on his forehead.

He shouldn’t ghost her, though.

_ [ah, no, i don’t. i’m sorry.] _

_ [why do you need it?] _

Kaede must be on her phone right now, which is why her text messages are coming in so quickly. The speech bubble pops up a few times, hinting that she’s typing, before her messages appear.

_ [Hnn :CC] _

_ [I’m worried, Ouma-kun said something cryptic about Amami-kun going on a trip and he won’t elaborate or give me his number. I don’t know what happened but I don’t think he should be traveling] _

_ [I also feel like it’s none of my business though so I was going to ask you to text him :(] _

_ [you were going to ask Me?] _

_ [akamatsu-san i appreciate your um, faith in my ability to talk to people] _

_ [but the last two times i’ve tried those kinds of conversations with amami-kun they ended very poorly] _

_ [Yeah but that’s just because Amami-kun is emotionally constipated] _

_ [AKAMATSU-SAN THAT’S MEAN] _

_ [And true!] _

_ [It’s okay, I’ll text Shinguji-kun. He probably won’t help me though he has this weird thing about letting people test their limits and he’s especially weird when it comes to Amami-kun :c] _

_ [you have shinguji-kun’s number but not amami-kun’s?] _

_ [We did a project together] _

_ [I know you’re probably working right now though so I’ll leave you to it. Don’t stress, Saihara-kun! (ouo)b] _

Shuichi finds himself smiling down at the screen, automatically, at Kaede’s emoticon use, but the warmth fades from his chest in what feels like a split second. Rantaro’s going on another trip, huh? He must be at least semi-recovered, to be discharged, but it can’t be healthy to be out and about so soon after getting injured like that… it’s not Shuichi’s place to tell him not to, though, even if Kaede thought that he should text. Kaede is the kind of person who it wouldn’t be weird to hear that sort of thing from. She’s their class representative, after all, and she looks out for everybody. That’s her brand of friendship. She takes care of people. Shuichi, he tries, but he can never do things as effortlessly as Kaede can.

Plus, even if Rantaro didn’t mean to hurt his feelings (based on how guilty he sounded the last time they spoke, Shuichi can only assume that this is the case) he probably doesn’t want to be told what to do. Wouldn’t Shuichi just be making things worse?

  
Still-- what could be so important that he’s leaving so suddenly? Surely his father can make his own business connections while his son is hurt? Shuichi frowns, glaring at the kitchen tiles, and takes another drink of the lemonade. Maybe it  _ is  _ related to his sisters. Rantaro’s always seemed like such a devoted older brother. It’s hard to believe that there’s anything he wouldn’t do for them. It’s just so strange to Shuichi that there’s no trace of them anywhere, not online or in any photos of Rantaro or his father… for someone to have multiple young daughters, there would have to be at least some kind of coverage, wouldn’t there?

Unless, perhaps, it was deliberately hidden from the public… oh, but why would that happen? Surely any larger scandals (death or any related scenarios) would be too extreme to keep under wraps? If the Amami family has a long history of daughters passing away, then there’d  _ be  _ something about it in the news. His uncle has dealt with cases where he’s had to be very discreet before, but nothing like murders. Not to say that murders are the only cases with high stakes, but they’re certainly up there. The things that can be kept on the down-low are things like adultery, and missing person’s cases…

More carefully this time, Shuichi lowers the half-empty lemonade bottle onto the counter. He has to be jumping to conclusions again. He doesn’t have any information on this, not a shred of evidence-- unless he counts particularly shifty behaviour from Rantaro whenever the topic comes up in conversation. Shuichi recalls a time when Rantaro and Kiibo were talking about his sisters. Well, his sister, singular; up until that field trip, Shuichi hadn’t been aware that Rantaro has multiple younger sisters. Kiibo had remarked that Rantaro seems to love his sister quite a lot, and when Rantaro chuckled, agreeing, he asked to see a photo.

At the time it struck Shuichi as a bit odd, Rantaro’s refusal to heed such a benign request (and Kiibo felt guilty afterwards, as though he’d crossed some kind of line, which he  _ hadn’t,  _ and evidently Rantaro didn’t mean to make him feel that way but that’s what happened) felt out-of-place in such a lighthearted scenario. Rantaro’s never discussed his sisters with anything but fondness, aside from perhaps a touch of melancholy here and there. At the time Shuichi brushed it off, but now that he thinks about it…

It’s just a conjecture, that’s all it is. And last time he came to a conclusion like this he made everything worse. But maybe-- well, if he’s right, then--

Shuichi takes the stairs in twos, padding up to Aunt Mei’s study, where she’s working on some kind of schedule rotation for the restaurant where she’s employed. Mei is the manager there, so she doesn’t have to work particularly long shifts (and she has today off, period) but it seems that she’s still trying to get some work done. Shuichi feels almost guilty about what he’s about to ask. But his heart is pounding heavy and he knows that his throat is going to burn with regret later if he doesn’t ask now.

(He doesn’t even know if he’ll be going to the right airport or not, but Rantaro was at Tokyo General, so he can only assume…)

“Aunt Mei, can you drive me to the airport?” Shuichi asks, breathlessly, shaking his head slightly to clear his thoughts.

Mei raises her eyebrows. “Planning a vacation?”

“Uhm, no, I-- my friend is going on a trip and I’d like to see him off.” It’s not entirely a lie, though perhaps his explanation for why he wants to go to the airport right now is a bit off-center. Mei doesn’t need to hear that. She takes off her reading glasses and folds them up, carefully closing the binder before her and getting to her feet.

“Doesn’t your friend have family members there to say goodbye to him?” Mei asks, though she’s picking up her jacket from the back of her seat, which means that the answer is yes. Shuichi runs a hand through his hair, finding it difficult to articulate his gratitude while still answering her question.

“Uhm, I don’t really think so,” he replies, truthfully, and Mei’s eyebrows raise again. “Ah, I mean, his father might be there, but,” Shuichi recalls the articles he perused in his initial state of curiosity, trying to figure out what the deal was with Rantaro’s sisters in the first place. All these stories of a fifteen-year-old traveling the world all by himself, while his father stays in Japan to run his business. His stomach flips over on itself. “I, ah, don’t have much evidence to the contrary, however…”

“Alright,” his aunt nods, pulling her dark hair into a ponytail. “I’ll drive you, then. We’re going to Haneda*, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Shuichi confirms, and shifts out of the doorway for his aunt to exit. Mei flicks off the light to her study as she goes and Shuichi follows her down the stairs, sliding his phone (which is still in his hand) into his pocket.

He’s never been a very impulsive person. If he has the opportunity, Shuichi likes to sit down and deliberate for several hours (at  _ least)  _ before he takes action in a situation. Sometimes there isn’t time for that, but if there is he wants to take advantage of the opportunity. It’s bad to go into things with no preparation. He’s always struggled when it comes to cleaning up messes that he was the cause of (hence the whole Rantaro-situation now) so a good amount of forethought is always advised. He likes to have a plan, too, before hopping into things. Having a script, a back-up; that’s the easiest way to get through things without catastrophic results.

With all of that said, as Aunt Mei pulls into the parking lot at Haneda International Airport, it occurs to Shuichi that he does  _ not  _ have back-up plan. Or any semblance of a plan, for that matter. What could he even say?  _ I think that your sisters are missing and I think that you’re looking for them.  _ Tactful. Really tactful, Saihara. Whatever happened to them, it must be intense for Rantaro to have been so hurt a couple weeks ago. Shuichi bites his lip, feeling his stomach flip-flopping a few times. He probably shouldn’t have done this, probably should’ve just texted Kokichi for Rantaro’s number and made a phone call, or else kept on minding his own business. But… well, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even really know why he’s here.

“Do you have other friends coming to see this boy off, or do you want me to wait for you?” Mei asks, resting her elbow on the wheel. Shuichi swallows.

“Uhm, if you can wait that would be nice, but I can also bus back home, too, I have my bus pass and all, so it’s no problem if you’d like to get home and go back to work,” he rambles off, putting a hand on the door and nudging it open with his elbow. “Thank you for driving me.”

“I’ll wait,” Mei shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, Shuichi. I’m happy to drive you anywhere you need to go.”

The list of things he owes his aunt and uncle just keeps on getting higher. Shuichi closes the door and makes his way through the parking lot, dodging cars and people dragging luggage, listening to the sounds of bright chatter and reunions as he starts on the long walk to the airplane terminal. He can’t actually go  _ in,  _ seeing as he’s not here to go on a flight, but since he’s technically coming to meet somebody, perhaps he won’t get thrown out by security? The airport is decently crowded, though, so the odds of him actually being noticed in the floods of people getting off their planes are… low. Still, he ought to make this as fast as he can. (He’s not here to  _ stop  _ Rantaro from getting on the plane, after all. That’s… really none of his business. He doesn’t have the right to tell him what to or what not to do.

He doesn’t know where Rantaro is going. He might be boarding right now, or even up in the sky. The drive took forty five minutes. Shuichi bites his lip. There are so many flights that will be taking off, and so many people obscuring his view. This was an awful idea. Perhaps he should go to a cafe and get a drink and sit for a while before going back out to Aunt Mei’s car and pretending that this never happened. It won’t be the most flattering decision but it’ll be most practical. There’s no way he’s going to find Rantaro in all of these people, not when--

“Saihara-kun?” Shuichi jolts at the sound of his name, spoken softly (and incredulously) behind him, but turns around, hesitant. Rantaro’s got a backpack slung over his shoulder, and a navy blue jacket pulled up to his ears. He really does get cold pretty easily; it’s rather sunny today. Or perhaps that’s to do with his destination, or the heating on the plane. But Rantaro’s family must be wealthy enough for him to be able to fly first class, so he doesn’t know why Rantaro’s accommodations would be anything other than first-rate. Shuichi bites the inside of his cheek. He ought to say something. Rantaro’s green eyes flicker down to his side, to his absence of any luggage or any belongings in the first place, just the lump of his phone and his wallet in the pocket of his sweat pants.

“Uhm,” Shuichi clears his throat, feeling his face warm slightly under the weight of Rantaro’s gaze. His eyebrows quirk upward, a slight amused tilt of his lips, and the expression is attractive but a little bit embarrassing to be on the receiving end of as well. Shuichi shifts his gaze, reaching up to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “Hi, Amami-kun,” he manages. He should really start explaining why he’s here, but the words aren’t coming to him, and his thoughts are so insanely scattered he’d not sure Rantaro would understand if he tried.

That smile widens a little bit and Rantaro raises a hand, waving slightly in greeting. He steps a bit closer so they aren’t blocking anybody’s way, close enough that Shuichi can see the actual patterns in his green eyes and the way the light catches on his eyebrow ring. He’s very… pretty. What an inconvenient time to be thinking as much, though. “Hey,” Rantaro greets. His voice is so level. It’s remarkable that he’s not feeling the lingering, crawling awkwardness that has taken over Shuichi at the thought of their last interaction. Or perhaps he is, and he’s just better at masking his emotions than Shuichi is. Whatever it is, it’s admirable, if a little worrisome. “Are you meeting someone here? Or getting on a flight?”

He phrases them like it’s an either-or. Shuichi rolls his lower lip in between his teeth, wishing that his vocal chords would unfreeze for a fraction of a second so he could get out what he wants to say. The way Rantaro brushes his hair out of his eyes is distracting, and at this proximity Shuichi can hear the click of his many rings against the one in his eyebrow. After a tense moment (that Shuichi spends turning over sentence-starters and explanations in his head) Rantaro’s expression shifts to seem slightly concerned.

“Are… you alright? Did som--”

“Amami-kun,” Shuichi blurts, feeling desperate, and a little bit crazy. “Are you looking for your sisters?”

Rantaro chokes. As in, it seems like he physically chokes, his green eyes going wide and a strangled sound escaping him before he coughs, doubling over slightly. Shuichi jolts, startled by the strong reaction, and reaches out, but before his hand can land on Rantaro’s shoulder, the other boy seems to recover, lifting his head and giving Shuichi a wary, searching look. Not a happy look, either, but Shuichi swallows down the anxiety that rises hot in his throat with the observation. “How’d-- Who told you that?” His voice is rough, probably from the coughing, but he sounds… angry, if only slightly. A controlled kind of anger but the type that Shuichi hates to be on the receiving end of. He grabs at the bottom of his shirt, twisting it up in his hands, and forces himself to breathe normally.

“I-- I guessed, I’m sorry-- it’s none of my business, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it-- I was worried, you came back from a trip injured and you just seemed so pale, and I was freaking out over the idea that your father would have you going around and doing something really dangerous, but I thought-- well, I assumed that it had something to do with your sisters, because you,” he struggles to find the right words. “You just, it seems like you’d do almost anything for them, and that kind of relationship… it’s awful to think what might have happened for you to seem so melancholic whenever you discuss them.”

When Rantaro doesn’t say anything (merely stands there, a weird, difficult to read look on his face) Shuichi bites the inside of his cheek. A moment ago he couldn’t say a word but now the silence is unbearably heavy.

“I probably shouldn’t have come here, you’re going to catch a plane, aren’t you? I don’t mean to be in your way or anything, I just-- Akamatsu-san texted me asking if I had your number, because she was worried about you going on a trip so quickly after getting hurt like you did, and I--”

“You’re kind of remarkable, aren’t you, Saihara-kun?” Rantaro interrupts. Shuichi blinks, focusing on him again, his mouth slightly ajar. Rantaro’s got a rugged, almost rueful smile on his face, and one of his hands has snaked its way onto the back of his neck in a familiar, sheepish clasp. It must be stabilising for him, to do that, though Shuichi always interpreted it as a motion he goes through whenever he self-deprecates. Perhaps he just does it when he’s embarrassed. “You solved a case with all of two clues.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t call it a case,” Shuichi tugs on his shirt, where his hands are still clasped. He tries to focus on the burn of the fabric of his palms, use it to ground himself so he can communicate properly. “It was more me being nosy and curious as… as usual, I suppose.”

“You  _ are  _ nosy,” Rantaro huffs. Shuichi looks down at the ground, biting the inside of his cheek again. He opens his mouth to apologise, though whether for that specifically, or for this conversation, or for everything in its entirety, he really doesn’t know. Rantaro beats him to it, though. “Ah, jeez-- I didn’t really mean that, don’t make that face. I don’t like it when you’re frowning like that.”

Well, now Shuichi’s face is burning, so that’s not much better. Still, he lifts his gaze, dragging it from Rantaro’s feet to the brown strap of his backpack to his eyes. And it’s… difficult, to read him, in the way that Rantaro has always been difficult to read, except… different, somehow. Because usually Rantaro is smiling, a sad smile or any kind of smile in fact, trying to laugh through whatever pain is rushing through him at the topic of conversation. There is no smile on Rantaro’s face right now.

“Look,” Rantaro exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just been straight-forward with you when you asked about Satsuki, but the idea that someone would actually  _ know  _ about one of my sisters-- or god forbid, any of them-- was… terrifying. I’ve never told anybody before, y’know? It’s sort of my responsibility. And it’s not something that I should be dumping on you in the first place, because you’re… you’ve got other shit to worry about.”

“Uhm,” Shuichi pushes his hair out of his face, biting his lip. “Well, I don’t think that… my having my own issues necessarily means that I’m unable to help you with yours. Not that you need help-- I didn’t mean to imply that-- but, just, I’m not struggling all of the time. There are times when I can be there for people.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “I didn’t know you were so perceptive to my problems, though, Amami-kun,” and then more softly, he adds, “and I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Yeah, and don’t get used to it,” for some reason, Rantaro’s face flushes at his, his brow furrowing as he yanks his gaze away. “I’m starting to get adjusted to what it feels like to not have to be an example all the time, but that’s not a good thing. If I get comfortable I’m gonna find my baby sister and drop an F-bomb in front of her, and then were will we be?”

The heated quality of Rantaro’s tone makes Shuichi laugh, quietly, covering his mouth with one hand. That coaxes a smile out of the other boy; a brilliant smile in fact, albeit begrudging and slightly awkward. It’s crooked though, and… pleasant. Shuichi marvels at how pretty Rantaro is, how the pale lights of the airport make his hair a tea-leaf green and highlight the sparkle in his eyes. Or perhaps that’s just a part of this moment, nothing to do with the airport itself. The airport smells like people and gasoline, and he can hear bags being dragged around, voices raising and falling, cars pulling up outside and people rushing to get into them.

Rantaro is still so lovely, though. And captivating. It’s… hard to think about much else. “So,” Rantaro shuffles from one foot to the other, resting his weight on his left leg rather than his right. “Are you here to drag me home?”

“Ah, because of your injury?” When Rantaro nods, Shuichi has to consider it. He sure would  _ like  _ for Rantaro to be resting right now. Sometimes people need to be told to take a break. Going out all the time, and with such desperation, it’s… not healthy. But there’s also a reason behind desperation usually, a  _ good  _ reason, and Shuichi’s never had any siblings but there are people in his life who he’d do just about anything for. (He thinks that perhaps,  _ perhaps,  _ one of them is standing not a yard away from him.) “Uhm, I think that’s what Akamatsu-san wanted, but no, that isn’t why I’m here. I just wanted to talk to you before you left.”

“Really?” Rantaro quirks a skeptical brow. “You strike me as the worrier type.”

“You should talk,” Shuichi scoffs, and when Rantaro pouts, he sighs, shrugging. “I don’t know, did you want me to tell you to come home? Because my aunt could drive you. She wouldn’t ask anything, either, she’d understand.” He pauses, trying to decipher the look on Rantaro’s face, but then decides to quit and just keep speaking. “I just, ah,” Shuichi bites his lip. “I feel like this… is something that’s very important to you, Amami-kun. I’ve always felt like that. And I’m going to worry because you’re right, I  _ am  _ the worrier type, but ultimately, I think… I think my brand of friendship is the supporting kind, not the kind that requires me to… to try to police you, so to speak.”

“S-- Saihara-kun,” Rantaro seems at a loss for words.

“You should still take things in moderation though,” Shuichi continues, glaring off to his left. “Be careful. I’m sure your stitches haven’t healed up yet. You should try to avoid intense physical exertion. And if you get hurt, go to a doctor this time, alright? Self-medicating is fine for something like a scratch on your leg but I’m certain that what happened a few weeks ago wasn’t a result of something so trivial, and I--”

Shuichi’s rambling is cut off when Rantaro moves forward, capturing him in an embrace. It’s sudden, that’s certain, but while Shuichi stumbles backwards with the force of the hug, he doesn’t try to push him back or refuse, he just… he slowly curls his arms around Rantaro’s waist, biting his lip. He’s still not sure if it’s… if it’s right, to be so  _ understanding  _ when it comes to something like this, but… it’s a matter of family. And if Rantaro would do anything for his family, then that’s his decision, really… Shuichi’s got no place to deny him.

The hugs that they’ve shared, they’ve always been so… cathartic. That’s perhaps the best word to use to describe them. Shuichi tucks his face into the crook of Rantaro’s neck. He smells like laundry detergent and minty aftershave, and his hair smells like rosemary shampoo, but beneath all of that there’s that familiar smell, of trees. The type you’d get on a hike through the forest. He’s not exactly steady right now, in fact he’s shaking somewhat, but he’s warm, and for some reason his arms feel to Shuichi like home.

Over the loudspeaker, a woman’s voice reads off that the next flight to Bermuda is boarding now, and Rantaro jolts in Shuichi’s arms, pulling back to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, that’s mine,” he says quickly, almost rushedly, but for some reason he doesn’t move any further. His expression is conflicted, deeply, and his brows are furrowed together. Shuichi doesn’t even bother trying to piece together what he’s thinking, though, just gives him a gentle push, releasing him from the embrace.

“Go, then, you’ll be angry at yourself if you miss it,” he says, though the second Rantaro leaves his arms, he feels the loss, deep in the pit of his stomach. He swallows down the urge to shiver, reaching out to take Rantaro’s hand for a very brief moment, just to give it a squeeze. “You’d better hurry.”

“I--” Rantaro frowns. “Saihara-kun, there are-- I should--”

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Shuichi says, smiling slightly. “When school starts back up again. You just need to stay alive until then, alright?” He gives Rantaro’s hand a parting squeeze and then lets him go, gesturing for him to leave. “Go quickly.”

And-- for a moment it seems like Rantaro  _ isn’t  _ going to go, like he’s going to say no and stick around, decide not to board the plane in exchange for more time to talk, or… whatever it is, between them, that was just interrupted. But something hard flickers in Rantaro’s eyes, something like determination, and he gives Shuichi a quick smile before he turns around, hurrying off to get on his plane.

(Shuichi ignores the sense of disappointment he registers in his chest as he turns to walk back to his aunt’s car. He told Rantaro to go, and he went. He’ll be seeing him in two weeks, anyway. Nevermind that he sort of wants to feel that hug again, right now.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shuichi is so touchstarved but like. god same
> 
> *Haneda: another name for the Tokyo International Airport


	6. Chapter 6

Shuichi likes helping his uncle with his cases. It’s not like detective work is his favourite thing in the world-- he prefers reading, to be completely honest-- but it’s not a bad use of his time by any means. And again, he owes Uncle Akifumi as much. The break isn’t all that long, but it’s plenty of time to really focus in on some cases. Upon returning home from the airport, he headed straight back up to his room (after finishing his lemonade, which was still on the counter where he left it) and plugged in his headphones to get some work done.

Right now it’s around three in the morning. He probably shouldn’t be awake, but it’s difficult to think about sleeping when he’s hyper focused in on a task. He doesn’t even  _ feel  _ tired, either. This always happens to him. He stays up late because he’s not tired and deeply regrets it in the morning. It’s a good thing that he doesn’t have to get up early tomorrow. Maybe he’ll push it until five and then pass out until two in the afternoon. His uncle will laugh at him when he finally comes downstairs, but neither him nor Aunt Mei will try to critique his sleep schedule. They both know that melatonin doesn’t really work for him and that insomnia is rough in the best of times. At least Shuichi doesn’t always spend his time browsing memes.

He’s so familiar with this time of night. It’s always so quiet, and it’s not as though he’s ever particularly loud, but while Mei and Akifumi are asleep, he tries to be even softer than usual. Working silently in his room. It doesn’t have to go any further than that. He’s made decent headway into this case that he’s been working on. In fact tomorrow he might even go out to the location in question and see if the missing person (who is the object of this case) is there, as he suspects them to be. Missing cases are difficult. There could be any number of reasons why a person went away. But his uncle prioritises communication.

That’s the first thing he came to notice when he started living here, actually. His uncle is so diligent and compassionate. There have been a number of cases where his uncle found whichever person he was looking for but didn’t tell the parents, because they were abusive, or for any number of other reasons. Shuichi aspires to be that way. To make well-reasoned and thoughtful decisions after looking at the whole of a situation. As things are, he seems to jump to conclusions a lot. Not just about things that personally involve him, but cases he works. He has to stop doing that. Remind himself to be objective.

Of course, it’s… hard, what with that weight from his first case, but it’s gotten easier to carry over the year. Kaito and Kaede don’t tolerate self deprecation, and they’re both very encouraging, but really it’s been Maki who’s been the most help in that regard. Her nonchalant way of summarising problems.

“What’d the guy expect?” Maki shrugged. “He committed a murder, and he did a bad job of covering it up. His fault he got caught, not yours for catching him. You didn’t even know his circumstances. But if you did, you probably should’ve turned him in anyway. People like that probably need some kind of help.”

Shuichi doesn’t necessarily believe that it was the right thing, to just… throw a man like that in prison, but Maki’s conviction has been helpful. She’s always so matter-of-fact. She’s not always  _ right,  _ but a little bit of certainty when Shuichi hesitates to state anything definitively, is… it’s a nice contrast, that’s all. Kaito is that way too, so firm and stable on everything… even if some of his convictions are straight up wrong. He’s becoming more open-minded. They’ve all come kind of a long way, and only after one year. Shuichi smiles slightly. He’s really lucky to have such good friends, even if he’s constantly questioning whether or not he actually deserves them.

It occurs to Shuichi that he’s gotten distracted and so he looks back down at the case file, uncapping his highlighter to go through and select a couple more important details. His uncle’s people have done some snooping in this area already, but not much. The missing person in this case is an adult, so there isn’t as much of a priority about it. Though, Shuichi still thinks it’s important. Adults need to be found sometimes too. They definitely don’t have their shit together all the time. Shuichi taps the end of his highlighter on the table, trying to sift through his thoughts. Detective work is nice because there’s always an answer waiting for him at the end of the tunnel. If he pushes the right buttons, examines the right scenes, he’ll come to a conclusion. It’s the cause of his fascination with mystery novels. There is a solution to every problem. Person to person interactions are rarely that simple.

(Not to say that he’d forsake them, though, because that would be a lie. Shuichi wouldn’t trade his relationships for anything in the world.)

His phone vibrates from where it is charging on his bed, just once, meaning it’s probably a text notification. Out of all of his friends, Kokichi is the only one who really stays up so late and actually has Shuichi’s number, but he really doubts that it’s Kokichi texting. Kokichi’s go-to when he’s up late is probably Himiko. They’re quite close, which took Shuichi off guard at first, but now it kind of just makes sense.

At any rate, if someone is texting him at this hour, it might be an emergency. He carefully caps his highlighter and gets to his feet, walking over to his cell phone and picking it up. There’s a text notification from an unknown number, though the area code says that they’re in Japan, and they have an iPhone, like Shuichi does, because the message is blue. He frowns a bit, wondering who could’ve gotten his number, and taps the notification, furrowing his brow.

_ [Hey, I’m in your yard] _

Another text comes in while Shuichi is staring, flabbergasted, at the message.

_ [This is Amami, by the way. Sorry. I probably should’ve led with that, haha.] _

Shuichi tosses his phone back onto the bed and rushes over to his window, drawing the dark blue curtains momentarily to peek outside. He can see Rantaro down there, his backpack resting at his feet and his hair tousled like he’s run his hand through it a thousand times, leaning against a lamppost and looking at his phone. He knows the messages have been read, likely, but Shuichi hasn’t typed anything in response.

If he’s  _ out there,  _ though, then Shuichi doesn’t need to text him to communicate. He lets the curtain fall shut and grabs a black sweatshirt off the floor of his bedroom, pulling it over his head and slipping out the door. His indoor shoes make quiet padding noises down the stairs, but he’s forced to hope that Aunt Mei and Uncle Akifumi will sleep through it, because he can’t be bothered to sneak down into the foyer when Rantaro is quite literally outside of his house. It’s been hours since they saw each other at the airport; Rantaro should be gone by now, still up in the air on a flight to Bermuda. Why is he here?

Admittedly, the thought that Rantaro came to  _ see him  _ sort of makes Shuichi’s stomach do rolls, but he’ll worry about that later. He steps into his sneakers and unlocks the door, pushing it open with his shoulder and stepping out onto the porch. Rantaro must hear the opening and closing of the door, because he straightens, raising a hand to wave. Even from this distance, Shuichi can see the broad smile on his face, and it makes him smile himself-- though he tries to fight that off for the moment, because he’d like to prioritise the questions that are all springing to mind right now over his instinctual fondness.

The door closes behind him with a soft click, and Rantaro moves to meet him halfway. Shuichi walks carefully down the steps in front of his house and stops walking when he is standing right in front of Rantaro, gazing up into his eyes.

He clearly hasn’t slept. But that’s hardly Shuichi’s largest concern. It’s a bit chilly (just the slightest bit) and Shuichi tucks his arms around himself, shivering as he opens his mouth to speak. “What are you doing here? It’s almost four in the morning.”

“I didn’t realise it was that late when I started over,” Rantaro admits, a lopsided smile appearing on his face that makes Shuichi’s heart flip flop in his chest. “Sorry. I hear I’m kind of a victim to my impulses.”

There’s no good response to that. Even though it’s insanely late, Shuichi feels his face heating up, and he chews the inside of his cheek. Rantaro’s still wearing that blue jacket from before, and in fact that backpack is the one he had earlier too, the one he was going to take on his flight. He must not have gone on it. His gaze is earnest, though, not sad, so Shuichi really doesn’t know what to say. He bites his lip. “I thought you were going to Bermuda?”

“Changed my mind,” Rantaro replies. “I can go to Bermuda any time I want to. It’s not like I have any good hints about Koharu right now, anyway. Er-- that’s the name of the sister who was lost there, sorry. I’m not used to talking about this with people other than me.” Shuichi wonders how many sisters Rantaro has, and if they’re all lost, but decides not to ask. That can be done later. “But you’re-- important to me, too, and I wanted… to talk to you. See you. I don’t know.”

“You’d have seen me when you came back,” Shuichi half-smiles. “How did you even get my address and phone number?”

“Ouma-kun,” shrugs Rantaro, and then he laughs at Shuichi’s sigh, and it’s such a delightful sound that any exasperation drains right out of him. “He’s very helpful when it comes to things like this, I just had to endure lots of teasing when I was asking.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that,” Shuichi tilts his head to the side. “It’s very sad that Ouma-kun won’t help you to stalk me unless he gets a couple of jabs in.”

“Hey!” Rantaro protests, waving his hands. “It’s not like that, I only asked him because I had no way of contacting you, and Shinguji-kun probably doesn’t know, and other than Toujo-san, those three are the only people whose phone numbers I have, so I--” Rantaro breaks off when Shuichi starts to laugh, covering his mouth with a hand, and pouts a little. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I am,” Shuichi agrees. “But your defensiveness was sweet.” He pauses, realising what he said, and clears his throat as his face starts to burn. “I-I mean, I-- considering the context, I was endeared to-- ah, there’s no saving that,” Shuichi mutters, and Rantaro’s smile is affectionate, not condescending, when he ruffles Shuichi’s hair. “Knock it off!” Shuichi ducks away from the touch, batting at his hand. “You come into  _ my  _ house--”

“Technically, we’re in the yard--”

“During  _ my  _ time of day--”

“I know you have insomnia, Saihara-kun, but I don’t think you can just claim nighttime for yourself--”

“Shut up, I’m trying to be indignant!” Shuichi huffs, and when Rantaro laughs again, he sighs, deflating. He’s so, so pretty when he laughs, his eyes fluttering closed and his head tilting forward a bit. His green hair obscures his eyes a bit, and when they open it’s like looking at a moss-covered log. He’s… absolutely breathtaking in all lighting, even if there’s hardly  _ any  _ right now. “But, ah, really, Amami-kun, I…” he bites his lip again. “I wouldn’t want to pull you away from your travels.”

“You’re not,” Rantaro rolls his shoulders. “I chose to come here. On impulse, and it took me a while, but…” he smiles. “I dunno. There’s a lot that I want to talk about. It doesn’t have to be right now, since it’s late, but I-- I wanted you to know that I-- want to be around for these conversations. Because they matter to me.”

Ah. Shuichi swallows through a dry throat, feeling his chest tighten. It would be stupid, decidedly, if he started to cry. Rantaro’s eyes don’t seem all that dry though either, so maybe it’s alright.

“Plus, I’ve been feeling dissatisfied for the past several months,” Rantaro frowns, his brows pressing together in what is admittedly a  _ very  _ cute display of disgruntlement. “And what happened at the airport didn’t help in the slightest.”

“Uhm?” Shuichi tilts his head to the side. Maybe all his brain power went to that case earlier. He really has no idea what Rantaro is referring to. “What do you mean?”

“There’s just something I want to do, that’s all,” Rantaro shrugs, very nonchalant, though the expression on his face is odd. Not blank per se, and certainly not unreadable, but… Shuichi doesn’t really know how he’d go  _ about  _ reading it if he tried. Rantaro’s something of an enigma. “Is that fine?”

“That, ah, depends what you wanted to do?” Shuichi smiles, a bit confusedly, and reaches to scratch the back of his head. “Because I think I might be on the same page as you but there are things that we still need to discuss before we really--”

Rantaro cuts him off, which would usually be a little bit frustrating, but the fact is that Rantaro steps forward and captures him in a hug, his arms curling around Shuichi’s waist, so tight it’s as though he feels Shuichi will disappear if he releases him. The embrace is… again, a bit sudden, but Rantaro kind of has a habit of that. Not that Shuichi minds. He’d never be brave enough to initiate the hugs to begin with, not unless Rantaro… really seemed to need it.

This kind of feels like one of those times, though. Shuichi shuffles, slipping his arms loosely around Rantaro’s neck, and murmurs, “Oh.” He feels the low rumble of Rantaro’s chuckle as it resounds through his chest, and when Rantaro presses a soft, chaste kiss to the edge of his jaw, he closes his eyes to lean into the embrace.

“Yeah,” Rantaro hums. “Sorry. I just hate how we keep getting interrupted all the time.”

“We do kind of have a bad track record for it, don’t we?” Shuichi muses, nuzzling into Rantaro’s shoulder. The hum he gets in response is packed with warmth, full and affectionate, the way that Rantaro’s arms always feel. The way they feel right now, in fact. “It’s very late to be standing outside of the house, though. Perhaps we should take this inside? My uncle won’t mind.”

“Mmkay,” Rantaro nods against him, and Shuichi feels his fingers curling in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “That’s fine.”

(Strangely enough, neither of them makes a move to go inside for a very long while. Not that there’s anything rushing them, though. For all Shuichi cares, Rantaro’s arms are all that’s ever been, and will be. That’d be just fine by him, he thinks. It’s the one place he feels like he truly belongs.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another one of my fics that ends with them not Quite being in a relationship but it's... implied that they like each other and they both kind of know it. why are all of my 5+1 things fics like this. like the kaemugi, the amamota, the saimota,,, hhkrjakdjf why can't i end something with a kiss. or do an established relationship fic
> 
> i guess i'm just Like That?
> 
> anyway uhm. yeah. impulse wrote this. am i back in my groove? fucking uhhh no this took me like a week to write. but hey here we are
> 
> i'm still in amasai brain so here we go friends
> 
> edit: oopsie doopsie forgot to advertise this ;3; i made a danganronpa discord server!!! we've been having a grand old time so if you wanna meet some rad folks and hear me talk about my stories.... 👀 https://discord.gg/ZE8tBJT


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